


Bring Me a Dream

by StupidGenius



Series: Once More, With Feeling [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Hurt Derek, Hurt Isaac, Hurt Stiles, Hurt everyone because i can, Isaac is a puppy okay, Lydia knows everything, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Magical Tattoos, Night Terrors, Non-Explicit Sex, Of course the sheriffs name is john, Panic Attacks, Parrish is a dragon because i cant think of anything else and hes great, Stiles Stilinski Can Sing, Tattooed Stiles, True Alpha Scott McCall, confused demisexual, guess who Lydia ends up with, he just looks like a john?, its practically cannon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-03-05 05:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3107636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StupidGenius/pseuds/StupidGenius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Deaton said I need training. I'm supposed to go after school with Scott." Stiles offers.</p><p>"Does that guy ever have actual customers anymore?"</p><p>"Yes." Scott says defensively. "Of course he does. He's a good vet."</p><p>---</p><p>Or, Stiles is magic, but no one's really surprised. Also, he worries about his love life at the worst times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One – They want Power

**Author's Note:**

> Multiple POVs, starting with just Stiles and Derek, but Isaac shows up eventually

Stiles never thought in a million years that things would turn out like this. When Scott had first been bitten, he never pictured his life like this. With Scott as an alpha (with his very first bitten beta, Liam) and Derek finally being in the pack. Isaac came back from France for senior year, and was now living with Stiles. They had become close friends, somehow.

Their pack was an odd one. They had four werewolves, a were-coyote, a kitsune, a banshee, a...whatever Parrish was...and Stiles. The human. He was, admittedly, the weak kink in the armor. He was more fragile than them and took longer to heal. The enemy could easily use him to get to pack. And he was incredibly reckless, according to Derek. But they keep him around.

Derek. Things between him and Stiles have changed. Over the summer, they got...closer. Stiles spends a lot of time at the loft, researching (and arguing) with him. Ever since the nogitsune, they have a lot more in common. The guilt, mostly. The nightmares, though Stiles seems to be the only one of them with that problem now. They're friends. They fight a lot, and Derek yells at him for always almost getting himself killed, but everyone can tell he cares. And Stiles...well, maybe he's developed a crush on him. Okay, he definitely has a crush on him.

"You're staring." Derek grumbles, hand buried in a bag of Ruffles. Stiles' cheeks heat up, and he turns back around to face the book he's been looking through.

"Sorry." He mumbles. "You chew really loudly. Do you even close your mouth?"

"Shut up." Stiles chuckles. "Aren't you supposed to be doing researching?"

"I am. Though I'd prefer using my laptop."

"Alan said those would be more helpful." Derek says, followed by a loud crunch. Stiles drums his fingers against the kitchen counter.

"This book says one in every ten thousand people is a changeling." He swivels around in the stool, book pressed close to his face. "Oh my god. That’s less than the population of Beacon Hills. What if there's a changeling in my classes? In my school! What if-"

"Calm down." Derek snaps, getting up and walking over. Stiles lowers the book to meet his eyes (amazing, gorgeous, pale green eyes). "Changelings are virtually harmless. What the fairies do with the human child is the problem."

"What-" he reads further. "Holy _god_. That... _why_?"

"We're not trying to stop that. These fairies aren't here to take someone's kid, they're here for someone specifically. They would have taken the kid by now." He grabs the book.

"Hey!"

"They're here for..." He flips the page. "Power."

"Great. More power hungry mythical creatures. Just what I needed." He hops off the stool and grabs the bag of chips. God he's starving. "I'm telling Scott that you neglected to feed me the whole time I was here."

"Stiles-"

"He will not be very pleased that you've been-"

" _Stiles_ -"

"- Starving his best-" Derek puts a hand over his mouth. "Mmmph!" He reaches up and tries to pry the hand away, though it's pretty useless. Even if Derek wasn't a werewolf, the guy's ripped. The werewolf pulls him back until his back hits the werewolf's chest.

"Someone's here." He whispers, dropping his hand. Stiles gasps.

"What?" He tries to be quiet. He tries to back away, but Derek tugs him back again. "Dude, what-"

"They got past the alarms. They're _here_." He hisses. Stiles gulps. Fear and panic start to set in. He's used to this. Fighting monsters every other week (sometimes every other day), you get used to sudden, unexpected attacks. But Derek's loft is supposed to be attack proof. He has alarms rigged everywhere, protection wards under the creaking hardwood floors...this place is supposed to be unbreakable. Yet somehow, something got in. And Stiles is terrified. They're alone. Derek's a werewolf, yeah, but the pack isn't here, and they're better as a pack.

"What do we do?" Stiles whispers. He glances back at him. Derek has his eyes trained on the ceiling.

"Stiles, run." He lets him go.

"Who's here? Do you-"

"RUN!" He roars, eyes flashing blue. Stiles starts forward, and something drops down to the floor behind him. Of course, since he's Stiles and he's, as Derek has said, reckless, he stops to look behind his shoulder.

It's a mistake.

The...thing...has Derek pinned to the floor. It's about as big as he is, but it has wings. Large, gossamer wings that look frayed around the edges. Its arms and legs look like part of a tree, roots and vines sprouting from pale olive flesh (kind of reminds him of Groot. Worst time for this). Honestly, it looks like something out of a child's nightmare, and the second Stiles turns to look at it, it veers its ugly head and roars at him.

"Shit!" He starts for the door. Not to leave, of course, but at least get his bat from his car and call Scott. The thing tackles him, and he feels the air rush out of his lungs. Hands grip either side of him, and then he's flipped over, the back of his head cracking against the floor. His heart pounds painfully in his chest, breath coming out in short bursts. The thing roars again, large hand coming up. It has long, translucent claws, and they look sharp. _Fuck_. Stiles closes his eyes.

Pain blooms across his chest, and he screams. He can feel warm blood start to spread on his shirt. _This is my favorite shirt_ he thinks absently. He braces himself for the creature to do something else, but there's an angry growl, and then something heavy drops over him. He gasps, opening his eyes.

Derek's stabbed it. The werewolf pulls the...whatever...off him, and stands panting over him.

"I told you to run." He breathes, bending down to help Stiles up.

"Yeah, well, you know me. Always- ah!" He squeezes his eyes shut and grits his teeth against the pain. Derek puts a hand around his waist, taking one of his arms and putting it around his neck.

"We have to get you to Deaton's." He tells him.

"Why not...the hospital?"

"Cause those things are poisonous." Derek explains.

"Oh." Stiles gulps. "Great." Derek helps him to the Camaro, dumping him in the passenger seat. The familiar feeling of panic sets in again, and he feels like someone's slowly squeezing the air out of his lungs. Derek gets in the car and starts it, glancing at him.

"Try not to panic." He says. "You'll just loose blood faster."

"Yeah, that's real helpful." _gasp_ "oh god."

"Stiles." Derek barks at him. He would probably make some lame dog joke if he wasn't too busy losing his shit. "Breathe."

"I can't-" _gasp gasp_. Stiles looks down at his now crimson soaked shirt. His hands are covered in blood. _His_ blood. "Oh god. I-" _gasp_ "I'm gonna die."

"No, you're not. Just take a breath. You can do it." Derek's being...weirdly comforting. Does he actually look worried? Stiles is probably imagining it, what with the poison in his blood and all. "Stiles!"

"Don't scream at-" _gaspgasp_ "-me!"

"I'm not-" Derek growls, the car speeding past a red light. "I'm not screaming at you, okay? Everything's fine. You're not going to die." He pauses. "I won't let that happen."

"Good-" _gasp_ "-to know-" _gasp_ "-you care." He closes his eyes, leaning forward with a groan.

"Of course I care." Derek's voice is surprisingly soft. Which is weird, because Derek isn't soft. He's tough and rude and broody. His face has a permanent scowl. Stiles is used to that. "You're pack. I'm not just going to let you die."

"O-oh." Stiles notices that he isn't panicking as much anymore. "I didn't..." He blinks.

"...awake, okay Stiles? Can you do that?" Derek's yelling at him. "Stiles, keep your eyes open, alright?" Why's he yelling? He just blinked, he didn't realize that was a crime. He looks down at his shirt. The blood's turning black, leaving his body faster than before. It should be enough to scare him, but his mind's sluggish. He blinks again.

 

\---

 

Stiles looks deathly pale under the florescent lighting of the clinic. Even though Deaton assured him that whatever cure he concocted will work, and Stiles will wake up soon, the boy's heart rate is still too faint and irregular to satisfy him.

They'd gotten close, over the summer. Derek can't remember when Stiles' constant chatter and non-stop movement stopped being annoying and started to comfort him. But it happened, somehow. Stiles started spending more and more time at the loft (without Scott. He usually comes by himself now), researching and filling the silence. They've become friends. And then Derek joined the pack, and now pack meetings are held at his place (the sheriff was glad that he didn't have to cater to a pack of teenage mythical creatures once every week anymore).

Maybe he feels something more for the Stiles. If he does, he doesn't acknowledge it. Not now, maybe not ever. Because he isn't Kate. He is _not_ her. _Plus, I don't think the sheriff would be too keen on his teenage son dating a murder suspect that was six years older than him_. Granted, Stiles will be eighteen in soon, but-

Stiles bolts up with a gasp, which quickly turns into a coughing fit. Derek reaches out to rub is back, then thinks against it. That would probably be weird. He settles for crossing his arms over his chest and silently celebrating the fact that he's alive.

Stiles is _alive_.

"What the hell were you thinking?" He growls.

"Good to see you too, sourwolf." Stiles coughs, wincing and bringing a hand to the bandages wrapped around his chest. "Well that was pleasant."

"I told you to run, Stiles. Not stand frozen at the door and let the thing attack you."

"I just wanted to see what it was." He mumbles. "I was gonna go get my bat. Call Scott. Not my fault it tried to claw my heart out of my chest."

"You're so-"

"Reckless?" Stiles smirks. "I've been told. By you. Repeatedly." Derek glares at him.

"You need to listen next time. Or I'll-"

"Rip my throat out. With your teeth."

"Stiles!" He growls. Stiles rolls his eyes, wincing again. He swings his legs over the edge of the table and plants his feet on the floor. The second he does, he blanches, swaying to the left. Derek reaches out and puts his hands on either side of his waist, steadying him.

"You should be weak for a couple of days, but you'll be fine." Deaton informs him.

"Thanks.”

"Now, Derek, you said it was a type of fairy?"

"Yeah." Derek nods.

"I thought this might happen." The vet sighs.

 "What do you mean you 'thought this might happen'? You knew they were coming?" Derek snaps. Deaton usually tells them if there was a threat. Yeah, he's incredibly cryptic about it, mostly speaking in riddles and making them figure it out for themselves, but he tells them. So why would he hide this?

"That book." Stiles says suddenly, turning to grip the edge of the table. "It said they were after power. Are they here because of the nemeton? You said what we did would make Beacon Hills a beacon again, is that it?"

"Not exactly."

"Then what?!" Derek's getting impatient. Deaton's mask of calm never wavers.

"They are after power, yes. And part of it is because of the nemeton, but they're not here for that itself. They're here for what it awakened. That night that you three did the ritual, it-"

"Could you get on with it?" Derek growls. "We have to know what we're dealing with. What are they after?"

"Calm down." Stiles mutters. "He's trying to tell us."

"Have you ever heard of Spark, Stiles?" The bald man asks. Stiles frowns.

"No, not really. I haven't gotten to that chapter yet." He shakes his head.

"Sparks are part Fae, usually. Very powerful. Some of the most powerful packs in history have had Sparks as their emissaries."

"Is that what you are? Cause that would be pretty awesome." Stiles wonders. Derek rolls his eyes, taking his hands of the kid's waist and crossing them over his chest again.

"No."

"Then what-"

"You are, Stiles. They're after you." Stiles' jaw snaps shut. For a few moments, everything is eerily quiet. Then he speaks up again.

"Well shit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can only ship Isaac in threesomes??? Seriously. I ship him with Boyd and Erica, Scott and Allison, and Derek and Stiles. I think the only monogamous ship I have with him is Isaac/Stiles.


	2. But I AM the Chosen One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deaton is still incredibly cryptic and Stiles is so, so awkward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if any of the lore in this fic is wrong. I find mythology and everything fascinating, but every time I try and look up anything there's a bunch of conflicting information, and for some reason I cant find actual books on anything? So I'm sorry, and feel free to correct anything if it's wrong. Especially the parts in Latin. The only friend I have that actually knows Latin wasn't much help. So again, sorry.

"I'm magic?!" Stiles squealed. _Oh yeah. Real manly, Stilinski._

"You're part fae, yes."

"Oh my god." He backed right into Derek's broad chest. "I'm a changeling, aren't I. Some twisted fairy people switched me out for some poor kid and ate his liver. I-"

"Stiles, you're not a changeling." Deaton sighed. "You're part fae. One of your parents was a fairy."

"Oh." He shut up. One of my parents was a fairy. It couldn't be his father. He was a great guy and all, but he didn't like nature much, and Stiles never saw him munching on babies in his spare time. His mother though... She was amazing. She loved flowers. Knew the meaning behind every one. She spent a lot of time outside, trying to teach Stiles everything he knew. He wasn't a very good student. _Was it her?_ He wondered. _Why wouldn't she tell me? Did she eat babies?_

"Stiles?"

"Huh?" Oh. Right. He'd zoned out.

"I said you'll need training. If you-"

"Wait, so am I like...the chosen one?" Stiles wondered.

"What?" Derek raised an eyebrow.

"You know, 'In every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer.' Except the she is a he. Me. And I'm a Spark, apparently. Have you guys really not seen Buffy? You-"

"Stiles." Derek growled (he growls a lot. It's becoming a problem).

"Right." He nodded. Honestly, he kind of felt like throwing up, and talking was his only way of making sure he didn't. Dr. Deaton raised an eyebrow at him and frowned.

"We'll discuss this further tomorrow. Derek, I suggest you take him home. He needs rest."

"I'm good." He lied. Well, yeah, he was tired. He almost died, after all. But there was no way he could sleep now, knowing he was apparently a very powerful magical being. And that other mystical creatures were after him when he didn't even know how to use his powers yet (if he had any. He wasn't sure).

"You're not good. You're pale, and shaking, and if you haven't noticed, you almost died, Stiles." Derek put a hand on his shoulder. He flinched. "I'm taking you home."

"You can't just expect me to go home and sleep after this!" He blurted. The pain in his chest got a bit worse, but he ignored it, because it was be nothing compared to what could happen to him. "I just got attacked by some...weird magic fae thing. It tried to _rip out my heart_. And then you just told me I'm apparently some powerful future emissary that can...I don't know! I can't sleep after this! I-" his legs buckled. _Okay, so maybe I do need rest._

Something caught him before he hit the floor. Correction- someone caught him. That someone being Derek. He opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) to see the beta's worried expression.

"Perhaps your loft would be better. Someone needs to watch him."

"Watching me sleep." Stiles laughed weakly. "That's not creepy."

"Come on." Derek sighed. "Do me a favor and try not to die on the way there."

"Sure thing Der-Bear."

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles seemed to be having trouble getting the sweater Derek lent him over his head. Derek watched him wrestle with it for a few minutes before going over to help him. Stiles frowned and let out a frustrated huff.

"This is ridiculous." Stiles mumbled, putting his arms up with a pained grunt. Derek tugged the sweater on. It was too big on him, the end of the sleeve covering half his hand, the collar falling off on one side and revealing his collar bone. Derek would have made some comment about him being a child, but he looked like he wasn't in the mood for jokes.

"You can take the bed. I- what are you doing?" Stile started unbuttoning his pants.

"Taking my pants off? I'm not sleeping in jeans. What did you..." The teen's cheeks turned a nice shade of pink. "I-I usually sleep in my boxers, s-so..."

"Right." Derek turned and started for the couch. "Goodnight, Stiles."

"Wait." He called. Derek paused, looking at him. Stiles fidgeted with the hem of the sweater, sitting cross legged over the covers. "You shouldn't sleep on the couch. It's probably uncomfortable."

"So you'll do it?" He wondered.

"N-no. You've got a pretty big bed, so maybe..." He lifted his arm to scratch at the back of his head and winced. The tops of his ears were red. "But if you don't want to, that's fine."

"Share the bed?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I believe that's what I was implying, yes." Stiles nodded.

"Are you sure?"

"Should I be worried? Are you going to violate me in my sleep or something? Are a snorer? What-"

"Stiles." He sighed.

"Yes, I'm sure. Completely sure." Stiles scoot over and threw the blankets over himself. "Shouldn't have to sleep on your shitty couch cause of me." He mumbled. Derek chuckled, going to the opposite side and switching the lights off. Stiles whimpered.

"You hurt yourself moving the blankets didn't you." He guessed. Stiles groaned.

"You know me so well." He pulled the sheets down a bit, so at least his torso was visible. "Deaton couldn't have given me some pain meds or something?"

"Here." Derek started to lift his shirt, then paused. Stiles was staring at him. "I can take the pain." He explained. The boy nodded.

Stiles let out a soft gasp when he rested his hand on his hip. His hazel eyes followed the black veins as they went up his arms, something akin to relief and amazement on his face. Derek ignored how the teen's pulse jumped (from the pain, probably).

"Does that hurt you?" He wondered.

"Not really." Derek shrugged. "I'm used to it." He moved his hand away. Stiles closed his eyes, settling deeper into the blankets.

"So much better than drugs." He whispered. "I should just keep you around at all times, never feel pain again. It'll be great. I-"

"Stiles, your mouth is open, sound is coming from it. This is never good." Derek interrupted him. "So shut up."

"Oh my god, you totally watched the-"

"Good night Stiles." Derek smirked, turning so his back faced the boy. Stiles huffed, moving around under the blankets. Even when he was trying to sleep, he didn't stop moving. He squirmed for about five minutes before finally settling, his heart beat slowing and breathing evening out.

Derek wished sleep had come that easily for himself. But it didn't. He was acutely aware of the other warm, soft body in the bed, just a few inches away from him. So very, painfully aware of the fact that he could just reach over and brush the hair off his forehead, or rub his thumb over the younger man's cheek. But he wouldn't do that. He couldn't. Derek sighed, turning around to face the sleeping teen. "Of course I've seen the show." He scoffed, thought he knew Stiles wasn't listening. "It was amazing."

 

* * *

 

 

_"Did you enjoy it as much as I did, Stiles?" The nogitsune said. It still had Stiles' body, dark bruises under his lifeless hazel eyes, blood stain over his heart where Kira had stabbed him. He was grinning wickedly at him, colorless lips chapped and cracking._

_"What are you talking about?" Stiles whispered. They were sitting on top of the nemeton, in a large white room. Just like Scott and Lydia had found him. The game was set between them, but the pieces were floating a good inch above the board._

_"Did you enjoy killing sweet little Allison? Twisting the knife into your best friend, drinking in the pain and strife. Watching all those people suffer."_

_"Shut up."_

_"You did, didn't you. You loved it. You had power, control. People feared you. How could you let them take that away from you? I could make you so much better." His own, cold hand reached out to caress his face. He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing quickening._

_"Wake up Stiles." He muttered. "It's just a dream."_

_"It's useless. You know it is. This isn't a dream Stiles." The nogitsune's breath was tickling his nose. It smelled like death. "I'll be back soon. Just wait."_

_"Get out of my head."_

_"And there'll be no stopping me. Not this time. Because you're just going to lose them all. You're going to keep losing the ones you love. And I'll be there to feed off the pain, just like I was before. And guess what?"_

_"WAKE UP!"_

_"I'm insatiable."_

_"GET OUT!"_

"Stiles!" Some yelled in his ear. He screamed, struggled against the arms holding him down. He tried to get away, but it was useless, his legs tangled up in the sheets. His back was against something warm, and he clawed at the arms around his torso, partially to get away and also because it was digging into his ribs, pain flaring up in his chest as the cuts reopened. Stiles could feel tears slip down his cheeks. He turned around to push away. "Stiles, its Derek! Calm down!"

 _Derek?_ The events of yesterday came rushing at him, and he went limp in the man's arms, chest heaving, heart hammering against his rib cage. It was just a dream. It wasn't real. It was just a dream. He repeated the mantra in his head, though it didn't do much good.

"Derek?" He croaked.

"It's okay. You're alright." The werewolf murmured. It was...comforting. Stiles opened his eyes. His face was buried in the crook of Derek's neck. "Are you okay?"

"I-it was just a nightmare." He whispered. "It's fine. I get them all the time."

"Stiles...how long has that been going on?"

"A while." He sighed, sitting up. And...he was in Derek's lap. He was in Derek's lap with his arms around his neck, and Derek didn't seem to mind. In fact, Derek looked concerned. Which was new. He scrambled off the older man, his face heating. And, of course, because he's Stiles (and his whole life is pretty embarrassing), he backed right off the bed. His head made a loud thud sound when it hit the floor (for the second time in ten hours), and he yelped. "OW!" He groaned. "I probably gave myself a concussion."

"You're ridiculous." He heard Derek mutter. "Get back here, it's five in the morning."

"What?!" He looked around. How had he not noticed it was still dark? "Oh."

"You need to sleep." Derek helped him off the floor. He looked around.

Stiles didn't really want to go back to sleep. Five hours was actually a lot more than he usually got since the whole nogitsune deal. He could probably make it through the day on five hours. He'd done it with less.

"I'm hungry." Not exactly a lie. Derek quirked an eyebrow at him, frowning.

"You're not tired? You should be resting. Deaton said you'd be weak for-"

"I'll take a nap later. Food now." Stiles winced, rubbing absently at his chest, and headed for the stairs. He could hear Derek following him. "Crap." He stopped short.

"What?"

"I forgot to tell my dad I was staying here."

"I don't think your father would like you staying the night at a murder suspect's shady loft." Derek told him. Stiles turned and raised an eyebrow (his eyebrow communication skills were improving. Derek must be wearing off on him) at the werewolf. "I'm just quoting you." Right. He had said that. A few weeks ago, actually.

"Right." Stiles padded over to the kitchen. "Ugh. I need to stop by the hospital later. See if I can get Melissa to smuggle drugs out for me without telling my dad."

"I've never worked at a hospital, but I'm pretty sure that would get her fired." Derek rolled his eyes as Stiles opened the fridge. "If you're in pain, I can help. Almost the entire pack can help."

"I'll live." Stiles shrugged. A sort of comfortable silence settled over them. Derek sat down at the counter and Stiles flitted around the (surprisingly clean and well-stocked) kitchen. Though he could hardly stop the word vomit from flowing out of his mouth most times, the morning was usually when he was most quiet. He wasn't really thinking about anything, it was more like he was...on auto pilot.

Find flour. Get eggs from fridge. Get water. Mix in bowl. Put pan on stove. His hands shook the whole time, mostly because that had been a particularly bad nightmare, and also because of what Deaton told him yesterday (maybe a little bit because Derek was just sitting there, watching him work). Stiles sighed, thinking back to when he and his mother would make pancakes in the mornings. She loved to hum while she worked, and eventually Stiles hummed along with her. They were mostly old songs, and he never knew the actual words. But it had always put a smile on her face.

"Are you...humming 'Mister Sandman'?" Derek wondered. Stiles jolted like someone had just shocked him. "Sorry." He muttered.

"I-it's fine." He cleared his throat. He hadn't realized he'd been humming. "Yeah, I guess I was."

"You cook?"

"Breakfast foods, mostly." Stiles dumped another pancake onto the plate he found. Then he paused. "Wow, I'm sorry. I never actually asked if I could do anything."

"It's okay." Derek shook his head. "It's actually kind of entertaining." Was that a smile on his face?

"This is your idea of entertainment? Watching injured teens make breakfast? Boy, I'm so glad I convinced you to buy a TV."

"Shut up." Derek grumbled. But the small smile was still there.

Stiles made enough pancakes for the both of them. Derek hadn't said if he liked them or not, but he didn't scowl in disgust and he ate all of it, so that was a good sign.

 Around seven, Stiles started feeling the familiar urge to fill the silence with his mindless babble. An incredibly hard urge to resist, but he didn't want to ruin whatever it was they had right now. So he bit the inside of his cheeks and tried not to fidget. Except that was impossible, because he felt like if he didn't make some sort of movement right now, the energy building up inside him might explode. _I forgot my Adderall. Again._ He thought absently. "Stiles?" Derek sighed.

"Hmm?" He could taste blood in his mouth. He wouldn't be surprised if there was a hole in his cheek right now.

"You should probably go home. See your dad, tell Scott about yesterday."

"Right." He nodded, getting up. The movement pulled at his wound. "I should go."

"Wait." Derek got up and disappeared into his room. He came back a few seconds later with Stiles' backpack. "The book and your clothes are in there too."

"Thanks." He frowned. His shirt was ruined.

"Bye Stiles."

"Later sourwolf." He chuckled.

"Don't-"

"Yeah yeah, whatever."

 

* * *

 

 

Scott had stopped by later that day with books. And not like, text books. Huge, leather bound, dusty old books. He wrinkled his nose when Stiles opened the smallest, newest looking one, backing away a bit.

"You said Deaton gave you these? For me?" Stiles questioned.

"Yeah. He didn't say why though." Scott inched closer. "You smell like blood. And Derek."

"I slept over at the loft." _Wait. I haven't told Scott yet_. He'd been so busy researching sparks and fairies he forgot to tell the freaking alpha of his pack (and his best friend) about his recent development.

"What?!" The boy's chocolate brown eyes practically bugged out of his head.

"Right. Uh, Scott, we have a problem." He closed the book. "And uh, it's partially my fault. Okay well, it completely my fault, but also not my fault because, hey, I didn't know okay?! I didn't know that I had this thing and if I did I-"

"Stiles, what did you do?" Scott frowned. Great.

"I didn't really _do_ anything. Apparently I was just kinda...born with it." He swallowed. "I'm a fae. Well, part fae. I'm a Spark."

"You're a fairy?!"

"No! Maybe. Yeah. I'm not really sure, because he just told me yesterday after this magical fairy thing just appeared in Derek's loft and tried to rip my heart out! I'm some...powerful emissary or something, and it's probably my mom's fault, because is really don't think my dad is fairy. But yeah, I'm magic. There are officially no humans in your pack. Not a hundred percent human, anyway."

"Something tried to rip your heart out?! Dude, you should have told me earlier!" Scott sighed. "Okay, wait. A Spark?"

"Yup. I don't exactly know what that entails aside from the not fully human part." Stiles collapsed down on his bed.

"Are you...are you our emissary now?"

"I don't know. I wouldn't be able to tell, cause I've been giving you advice the whole time anyway." He rolled his eyes.

"Do you have powers?"

"What part of 'I don't know' did you not get, Scotty?"

"Right." His best friend nodded. "So these books..."

"Probably gonna help me find out, yeah." Stiles sat up. "God. How am I supposed to tell my dad about this. 'Hey, daddy-o, I know you just got over the whole running with werewolves thing but guess what your wife wasn't human and I'm not either'. Yeah, that'll go _real_ well."

"I'm sure he'll be fine." Scott assured him. "He's your dad. He loves you."

"Will he still love me if he find out about this?" Stiles wondered. "Because, no offense Scott, he loves you, but you saw how relieved he was that I wasn't one of you guys. And at least you were born human. I've apparently always been like this."

"It'll be fine." Scott put a hand on his shoulder and smiled at him. "Let's look through these books, okay?"

"Yeah." Stiles nodded, reopening the book. He could hardly focus on the words. The history of fairies was interesting and all, but the other books Scott brought seemed to be calling for his attention. Especially the biggest one at the bottom. He pushed the one he was holding aside and went to examine the others. _Symbola, litterarum, carmina,_ and _alchimia_. Stiles frowned. The first one was obviously symbols, and the last one might be alchemy. But what were the other two? "We might have to call Lydia."

"Why? Is she a spark too?"

"She's a banshee." He dropped the book he was holding back on the desk. "And these are all in Latin, I think."

"Oh." Scott nodded. "Right."

"Yeah."

"We should call a pack meeting." Scott pulled out his cellphone.

"Do we have to tell them?" Stiles whined. Yeah, this might be cool and everything, but he wanted to at least get a handle on...whatever his abilities were...before telling them. Scott just glared at him (Derek was rubbing off on him too, he guessed).

"You're an important, high ranking member of the pack. They need to know what's going on."

"Yes sir, alpha McCall." He saluted him. And just like that, all seriously ness was gone. Scott rolled his eyes.

"Pack meeting tonight."

"Where? Cause dad's gonna be home tonight and I don't think he can handle a bunch of supernatural teens, an immortal deputy, and one broody ex alpha in his living room."

"Yeah, mom's not too thrilled about how the last pack meeting we had there went."

Ah yes. The last McCall house pack meeting. Everything had been going the same as usual until Parrish and Derek got in a fight. In his defense, Parrish was playing with literal fire, and that was a bit of a touchy subject when it came to Derek. The fight had ended with a hole in Melissa's wall, Stiles with a broken arm, and Isaac wolfing out because someone threw a glass bottle at him. Not a fun night.

"The loft?" Stiles suggested.

"Would Derek mind?"

"I like to think he's become less of a moody ass over the summer." Stiles smiled.

"We can't be up too late though. We've got school tomorrow."

"Right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a stair in Derek's loft. I'm not sure where it leads to, or how the floor plan works, exactly, but we're going to pretend that the stairs leads to Derek's room, because what the fuck else is it going to lead to? A bathroom? A door that opens out into the street? No, that would be ridiculous. That's going to be Derek's room, whether that's how it is in the show or not.
> 
> Yeah, okay, the title of the fic is from that song. Its been stuck in my head for months? I don't even remember where I heard it I just like it.
> 
> I don't really know if Parrish is immortal, but fire can't kill him. I'm just going to say he's a dragon until they decide to tell us what he is.


	3. Where are you going?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parrish doesn't mean to be insensitive. He just doesn't pay attention sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This...took a while. It had the first five chapters written already, but there was this part that I didn't like anymore, but it was a huge part, so i had to rewrite it, and...
> 
> Sorry in advance if this chapter sucks. The next one will be better.

Derek liked the pack, really. But Liam and Parrish pissed him off, and he'd rather not spend his afternoon arguing with teenagers in his home. So he sat in his one lone chair, listening to them. Stiles had settled on the floor between the chair and the couch, a large bowl of Cheetos (which he stole without permission from the pantry) resting in the middle of his legs.

"Fairies are real?" Liam wondered.

"You can believe in werewolves and witches but not fairies?" Kira countered.

"I thought tinker bell was just bullshit. Not every myth can be real."

"Tinker bell is bullshit." Stiles spoke up, shoving another cheeto in his mouth. His fingers were bright orange. "The fairy that attacked me was not small. Or pretty."

"What did it want?" One of them asked. Derek didn't know which. He was a bit distracted at the moment. Because Stiles was licking the powered cheese off his fingers in a way that was almost obscene. It was just worse that he clearly wasn't doing it intentionally. What he was doing was completely innocent, and Derek was being a creep.

"Me." Stiles sighed when he was done. They all turned to look at him. "Scott, why don't you tell them, being the alpha and all."

"You're the Second." Scott frowned. Stiles rolled his eyes and got up.

"Still don't get that. I'm not a werewolf."

"Anyone in the pack could be the second. Though I don't think you can be anymore." Derek commented. Stiles sighed.

 "Right. Okay. So, I'm magic, apparently. I'm part fae. A Spark."

"You're a-" Liam started with a grin. Stiles turned a surprisingly icy glare on him.

"Yes, Liam, a fairy. And if you make one stupid comment about it, I'll shove mountain ash so far up your ass you'll be coughing it up for weeks." Liam nodded, rolling his eyes.

He really shouldn't underestimate Stiles. Really, he should be kind of scared. Because really, Stiles would do it. Maybe Stiles of the past wouldn’t have actually meant it, but he’s different now.  "Deaton said Sparks were powerful emissaries."

"So you're like our new Deaton?" Malia questioned.

"God, I hope not. He's kinda creepy." Stiles shuddered. "I'm, uh...I'm your Willow!" He glanced at Derek, and he gave him a small smile.

"Wait, so if you're just an emissary, why did that thing go after you? Why not Scott? He's a true alpha, those are rare, aren’t they?” Parrish frowned. Derek hated to admit it, but he had a point.

"Somehow I'm...more rare. And very powerful. And fairies like to use the hearts of people like me in big feasts." He rubbed at his chest a winced. "Almost got it, by the way. Not fun."

"Great." Lydia huffed. "Well, I'm officially done with this. What's up with fairies trying to off their own kind?" Right. Their last encounter with the fae had been in the beginning of the summer, when they tried to sacrifice Lydia to gain more power for themselves. Become immortal or some shit.

"I don't really know." Stiles said thoughtfully.

"So you have powers?" Kira asked excitedly. "Like me and electricity?"

"I don't know. Deaton said I need training. I'm supposed to go after school with Scott."

"Does that guy ever have actual customers anymore?"

"Yes." Scott said defensively. "Of course he does. He's a good vet." Stiles sat back down on the floor.

"Are there more of them? The ones that attacked you?" Parrish asked. And of course he was playing with the damn lighter. His eyes glowed gold as he held it to his skin, the flames not leaving as much as a mark on the soft flesh of his palm. Derek was annoyed.

"Could you not do that here?" Derek growled. He saw Stiles look up at the two of them.

"I'm trying to figure out what I am. I'm not going to burn your home..." He trailed off. "I'm sorry. I didn't-"

"Stop." Stiles said. And the flame from the lighter extinguished. "Maybe you shouldn't do that here." He looked up at Parrish, raising an eyebrow. The deputy nodded, frowning at the lighter. He tried to turn it back on, when he thought Derek wasn't looking, but it didn't seem to work anymore.

"How do we kill them?" Isaac asked. He'd been quiet the whole time, sitting at the edge of the couch near Stiles.

"With this." Derek got up and went to the cabinet under the TV. He pulled out the sword he'd used to kill it yesterday. It was a long, iron sword, a white crystal on the hilt. One of the only things left of his mother. Deaton had given it to them when he was a kid. "We've had problems with fairies before. My mother used this to fight them off."

"Woah." Stiles gaped at it. He scrambled up and reached out to it. "That looks so cool. Where- Ow!" Where his fingers were resting on the blade, a small puff of golden smoke rose up, and he pulled back as if he'd been burned. "What the hell was that?"

"It's a sword that kills fae, dumb ass." Lydia got up and went over to them, rolling her eyes. "I'm guessing it has an effect on you."

"It burned me." He pouted, holding his fingers.

"You're not going near this." Derek warned, putting it back where it belonged. Stiles sighed.

"Are we going to train now or what?" Liam complained from the couch. Derek growled. Scott shot him a warning look.

"Yes." Derek sighed.

 

* * *

 

 

While the wolves (and Malia and Parrish and Kira) trained in front of the old Hale house, Lydia and Stiles sat on the porch. He pulled the books out of his bag, starting with _litterarum_. It was one of the biggest books, and the oldest. Lydia took it from him and examined the cover.

"This means runes." She explained. "A mark or letter of magical significance. They're usually ancient roman or Greek."

"Huh." Stiles nodded. "So they're like...symbols I need to draw?"

"I don't know." She shrugged. "It'll probably say in the book."

"Right." She opened the book to the first page.

"Stiles, this...this isn't Latin. I have no clue what this is." She shook her head, squinting at the page.

"What?" He took the book from her. "This is in English." He whispered. _What?_ He had expected them to be in Latin, like the cover.

"That's _not_ English."

"Lydia, I'm looking at it right now. It's plain English. Look. 'Earth'. It says it right here." He pointed to the word on the page.

"That was gibberish. I have no idea what you just said. I can't read that." He frowned.

"Lydia, what-"

"You're the only one that can read it." She looked up at him, a small smile on her face. "These books were meant for you. Only you."

"I'm..." He trailed off, glancing back down at the page. _Only me?_ "Oh."

"I can help with the covers, but that's it."

"How am I supposed to figure this out by myself?" He groaned, tipping his head back so it rested on the charged wood walls and closing his eyes.

"You spent an awful lot of time with Derek over the summer." She said suddenly.

"So? It was pack bonding."

"Doesn't pack bonding usually involve the whole pack." He cracked his eyes open and glanced at her. She raised an eyebrow.

"They can hear us, you know."

"They're running. The only one is range is Isaac, and he won't tell a soul, will he?" She said the last part a lot louder than the rest of the sentence. From his spot on a fallen tree (about twenty five meters away), Isaac turned and waved at them. Wonderful. "See? So what’s up with you and Broody McManpain?"

"Oh my g- nothing's going on with me and Derek." He closed his eyes again, feeling exhausted. He really should have taken a nap like he said he would.

"So you didn't notice how he was full on staring at you while you were eating?" Lydia questioned.

"Even I noticed." Isaac's voice startled him. He yelped, eyes flying open. For the third time in twenty-four hours, his head hit something hard, pain zapping through his brain like lightening.

"Fuck!" He hissed. Isaac frowned, guilt flashing across his face.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." The beta apologized.

"It's fine." He rubbed at the back of his head. "God. Why does my poor skull have to keep getting hurt?"

"Here." Isaac pressed two fingers to Stiles' forehead. He gasped.

"Thanks." He muttered. Isaac gave him a timid smile.

"No problem." He dropped his hand. "Seriously though, he was staring at you."

"Probably because I'm a weirdo that licks their fingers when they're done eating." He grumbled. "Or how, even though I'm supposedly this super powerful fae, I'm a massive klutz. Like, what if I sneeze and accidentally turn everyone into frogs?"

"I don't think you would do that." Lydia said.

"You like him, don't you?" Isaac asked.

"I don't... it’s not-" Stiles looked between the two. "Does _everyone_ know?"

"They can smell it on you." The beta shrugged. "The only one that doesn't know is Kira and Derek himself. Because he's too dense to figure it out."

"Oh god." Stiles groaned, covering his face with his hands. "That's just...that's great. Of course. Everyone knows."

"Was it supposed to be a secret?"

"I hate you guys, you now that? I-"

"They're coming back." Isaac looked into the mass of trees before them.

"Won't tell a soul, right?" He asked. Isaac nodded. "I knew there was a reason I let you stay with me."

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles tossed and turned in his bed. Isaac was sleeping soundly on the cot they set up cross the room. He was probably being a creep, watching one of his friends while they slept. But he couldn't sleep. Something in him felt...wrong. He couldn't stop moving, and that was normal, but...it wasn't ADHD. It didn't feel the same. He felt off. He'd actually felt this way all month, but it was worse now. There was all this energy in him that he didn't know what to do with.

He sighed, throwing off the covers and getting up. Isaac stirred.

"Stiles?" He mumbled, opening his eyes. His dark golden curls peaked out the top of the dark blue comforter he lent him. "Where are you going?"

"Don't worry puppy." Stiles whispered (because Isaac was a puppy). "I'll be right back. Just going for a walk."

"I'll go with you." He started to get up.

"No. I need to be alone."

"But-"

"I'll be fine." Stiles promised. Though part of him wasn't so sure he would be. Isaac frowned at him, worry clear on his face, even in the dark.

"Are you sure?" The beta yawned.

"I'm sure." He ruffled his hair. "Go back to sleep. If I'm not back in the morning, call Scott." Isaac nodded.

Stiles went down to the kitchen and paced around the small island. His stomach growled, and he grabbed an apple before heading outside for a walk. It (the apple) was colder than he thought it would be. And normally that wouldn't be important, but Stiles found that odd. He pressed it to his face, feeling a bit relieved with the cold fruit touched his forehead. _I'm sweating._ He realized. _Maybe I'm sick. Maybe that's why I feel so off_.

He still felt restless after half an hour of walking around his neighborhood. Stiles got in his jeep and looked at the time on his dashboard. It was only three sixteen. He'd slept for two hours.

"Let's go to the preserve." He muttered to himself.

Stiles parked the jeep in front of the sign at the entrance and stepped over the chains. The cool night air felt nice on his heated skin. He wandered through the trees aimlessly, not really sure where he was going or what he was doing.

“Stiles?” He knew it was Derek, but he still jumped about two feet in the air at the sound.

“Derek.” He tried for nonchalance. It probably wasn’t working.

"What are you doing here?" He asked him. “It’s the middle of the night.”

"I was..." Stiles looked around. He felt as if he was just now realizing where he was, though he knew he'd been aware of it the whole time. He blinked. "I was...I'm not sure." Derek studied his face for a moment, frowning.

“You’re upset.” Technically, that was true.

“Look at you, reading emotions.” He mumbled. Derek glared at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“I…” he wiped the sweat off his brow. “I was thinking. About…last year.” He said finally. Derek nodded.

“The-”

“Yeah.” He looked down at his feet. “Malia got asked out the other day. I don’t know how I feel about it.” Again, true. Derek frowned at him, eyebrows threatening to become one fuzzy black caterpillar over his eyes.

“I thought you broke up with her.”

“Well, yeah, but, I mean…It’s complicated.” He mumbled. His face felt too hot.

“How?”

“We weren’t really dating, okay? I mean yes, we said we were, and we tried. I felt like I was obligated to, after…everything.” He whispered the last part, a lump in his throat. “When I was in Eichen House…” he started. _Why am I telling him this?_ “Towards the end, the nogitsune kind of…took over. I was sleep deprived and hallucinating, and the stuff Deaton made was wearing off, and…he took over. Not completely. I was still…aware. I was there. But he was…I don’t know. Malia and I were in the basement, and he was controlling me, and I don’t know how we got to where we did, but we… we had sex. I didn’t want to, and I don’t know how it happened.” His voice cracked towards the end.

He’d never told anyone that. _They’d_ never told anyone. They talked about it, but Malia hadn’t been that bothered by it. Maybe it was a coyote thing? He knew he was bothered by it though. He had always wanted his first time to be…special, or something. Not that fucked up mess.

“Stiles…” he reached out to touch his shoulder. Stiles flinched, though he really didn’t want to. Derek frowned. “I..” he cut off, looking down at his hand. “Stiles.”

“What?”

"Jesus." He breathed. "You're burning up."

"Oh." He mumbled. Derek's scowl melted into concern. He put his hand on the teen’s forehead.

"Stiles...your temperature is way too high." He pulled his hand back.

“Oh.” He repeated. And then, without warning, the world turned black.

 

* * *

 

 

Derek had been about to ask if Stiles felt any different when the boy’s eyes flashed a bright green. They rolled back into his head and he just…dropped. His heart rate slowed to a dangerous pace. It was weak and thready, his breathing labored.

“Stiles?” he caught him right before his head hit the ground. He wasn’t going to lie, he was panicking. He pulled the pale man up from the ground, wrapping an arm around his waist and holding him upright. Stiles’ face felt like fire against his neck. He pulled out his phone, dialing the only number he could think of at the moment.

“Derek.” Deaton greeted. “is everything alright?”

“It’s Stiles. He’s burning up. We were talking and he just…dropped.”

“If he has a fever, I suggest the hospital.”

“No. Alan, listen.” He growled. “His temperature is higher than mine.”

“Bring him here.” Was all the man said before hanging up. Derek swore, lifting stile’s head to look at him. The teen was sweating, cheeks red from the heat but the rest of his face a ghastly white.

"I'm getting sick of having to carry your unconscious ass everywhere." Derek mumbled. "Come on Stiles. Please be okay."

"Derek?" Stiles mumbled when the werewolf threw him in the passenger seat of his car. "It's _hot_." He whimpered.

"I know. Don't worry. You'll be fine."

"Isaac." Derek glanced at him.

"What?"

"I promised..." He swallowed, gasping. "I'm supposed to be back." He looked around. "Where are you taking me?"

"Deaton’s."

"N-no." Stiles slurred. He squirmed in the seat, turning towards the window. "I gotta...I need to go back."

"You're delirious."

"Gotta tell dad..."

"Stiles, calm down." He put a hand on the boy's chest to hold him in place.

"It's hot." He whined.

"I know, I'm sorry. We're almost there." He sped up the car.

"Not again." Stiles moaned, dragging his hands down his face.

"What-" Derek paused. "Stiles, has this happened before?" The boy nodded. Derek turned sharply into the parking lot of the clinic. He went around the car and pulled Stiles out of the seat. “When?” Stiles seemed to be answering him, but the words were slurred, too low and jumbled to make sense. Deaton let him into the room in the back.

“Take his clothes off.” Was the first thing he said.

“What?” Derek frowned, but he started taking the kid’s shirt off anyway. It’s not like Deaton would tell him to do that for no reason.

“Put him in here.” Th vet pointed to a familiar tub near the back, filled to the brim with ice and water. Stiles blinked at it, head lolling to one side. And then he tensed, eyes going wide.

“No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, Isaac is trying to help Stiles with his Derek problems. Because Isaac doesn't think he has a chance.
> 
> We'll see.
> 
> Also, that scene with Malia and Stiles in Echo House really bothered me. I mean, I like Stiles and Malia, they're kinda cute together, but???? Like I said, Stiles was sleep deprived, loosing his grip on reality, afraid he had the disease that killed his mother, and possessed. Malia had been human for less than two months. And searching for clues in the basement of a Mental Institution isn't really the best time for sex. So, lets just say that Stiles didn't really have full control over his mind, because he's smart enough to know that that wasn't the right time for that at all.


	4. Take a deep breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six in the morning wasn't a great time to hear you could possible spontaneously combust. No time was really a good time to hear that, but _especially_ not now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, I know, I'm sorry about that. I was going to post this earlier, but then there was this problem with Ao3, and then it was fixed but I needed to make some changes? I'm sorry. 
> 
> I did go to the book store though, and I found some books about fairy lore and mythology that might be useful. Hopefully its all accurate. Well, as accurate as a story about mythological creatures can be.

Stiles’ mind was mush, and he felt like there was fire coursing through his veins, but like hell he was letting them put him in that damn tub of ice. He could almost see the nogitsune lying in it, smirking at him, eyes glowing like fireflies.

“No no no _no._ ” he struggled against Derek’s hold.

“Stiles, you have to.” The werewolf grunted. He didn’t remember taking his clothes off, they just suddenly were. The silver tub of ice was right in front of him now. Images of the nemeton flashed through his mind. Allison, a bloody, lifeless heap in Scott’s arms. Staring down the barrel of Chris Argent’s gun. He still remembered exactly how to make a bomb. Remembered what if was like to twist the katana in his best friend’s- his _brother’_ s- stomach.

“Stiles, you have to let go.” Deaton was speaking to him, and he didn’t even realize he was wrapped around Derek like an octopus.

“P-please.” He begged. It was pointless. They managed to pry him off of the werewolf, and he fell into the bath with a choked off sob. He fought to get to the surface, but strong hands were holding him down, keeping him firmly in place at the bottom of the tub. His head felt like ti was on fire.

_“You know when you’re drowning, you don’t actually inhale until right before you black out. It’s called voluntary apnea. It’s like no matter how much you’re freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won’t open your mouth until you feel like your head is exploding.” Stiles said, focusing on his lacrosse stick. “And then you finally do, and that’s when it stops hurting. It’s not scary anymore. It’s… it’s actually kind of peaceful.”_

_“Are you saying you hope Matt felt some peace in his last moments?”_

_“I don’t feel sorry for him.”_

_“Can you feel sorry for the nine year old Matt who drowned?”_

_“Just because a bunch of dumbasses dragged him into a pool when he couldn’t swim doesn’t really give him the right to go off killing them one by one.” He paused. “And by the way, my dad told me that they found a bunch of pictures of Allison on his computer. But not just of her, though, I mean he photo-shopped himself into these pictures, stuff like that. Holding hands and kissing, it was like he had built this whole fake relationship. So yeah, maybe drowning when he was nine years old was what set him off the rails, but the dude was definitely riding the crazy train.”_

_“One positive thing came out of this though.” Morrel noted, unfazed as always. “Right?”_

_“Yeah. Yeah, but I still feel like there’s something wrong between us. I don’t know. It’s just, like, tension when we talk. Same thing with Scott.”_

_“Have you talked to him since that night?”_

_“No not really.” He refocused on his lacrosse stick. “I mean, he’s got his own problems to deal with. I don’t think he’s talked to Allison either. But that might be more her choice, you know? Her mom dying hit her pretty hard. But I guess it brought her and her dad closer. Jackson? Jackson hasn’t really been himself lately. Actually, the funny thing that as of now, Lydia’s the one who seems the most normal._

_“And what about you, Stiles? Felling some…anxiety about that championship game tomorrow night?”_

_“Why would you ask me that?” he glanced down at the lacrosse stick, the net in his mouth. “Oh. Uh, no, I never…I never actually play. But, hey, since one of my teammates is dead and the other one’s missing, who knows, right?”_

_“You mean Isaac. One of the three runaways. You haven’t… heard from any of them, have you?”_

_“How come you’re not taking any notes on this?”_

_“I do my notes after the session.”_

_“Your memory’s that good?”_

_“How about we get back to you?” he sighed. “Stiles?”_

_“I’m fine.” he paused. “Yeah, aside from the not sleeping, the jumpiness, the constant, overwhelming, crushing fear that something terrible is about to happen.”_

_“It’s called hyper vigilance. The persistent feeling of being under threat.”_

_“It’s not just a feeling though, its… it’s like it’s a panic attack. You know, like I can’t even breathe.”_

_“Like you’re drowning.”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“So, if you’re drowning, and you’re trying to keep your mouth closed until that very last moment, what if you choose to not open your mouth? To not let the water in?”_

_“Y-you do anyway, it’s a reflex.”_

_“But, if you hold off until that reflex kicks in, you have more time right?”_

_“Not much time.”_

_“But more time to fight your way to the surface.”_

_“I guess.”_

_“More time to be rescued.”_

_“More time to be in agonizing pain, I mean, did you forget about the part where you feel like your head’s exploding?”_

_“If it’s about survival, isn’t a little agony worth it?”_

_“What if it just gets worse? What if it’s… agony now, and then…then it’s just hell later on?”_

_“Then think about something Winston Churchill once said. ‘If you’re going through hell, keep going.’”_

Stiles opened his mouth, and water flooded his lungs.

 

* * *

 

 

Derek let go when Stiles finally stilled. His heart slowed down so much, Derek thought he was dead, but then he remembered that this was what it had been like a year ago, before the nogitsune. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

Stiles had looked terrified. His heart had sounded like it was going to beat out of his ribcage, and had never heard him scream like that. He’d begged not to go in, fought like his life depended on it, and they did it anyway. They’d help him under while he thrashed around, scared out of his mind. Derek kind of hated himself at the moment. He couldn’t help but wonder what Stiles had thought of or seen that made him act like that.

Deaton knelt down at the side of the tub, face an emotionless mask.

“You said this has happened before?”

“Yeah. That’s what he said in the car, anyway. It might not be true.”

“Interesting.” Derek hated when he said that. The vet got up and made his way out of the small room, standing in front of the metal table. Derek followed him.

“I know you have an idea about what’s happening to him. So just tell it to me now, because I’d rather have a guess than have no idea at all.” He told him, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Deaton frowned.

“I’m not entirely sure. It could have something to do with his mother, Claudia, but it’s more likely that this happened because of the nemeton.” He paused. “Or maybe just the nogitsune. it could have realized he was magic before and tampered with it somehow.”

“But you’re not sure.”

“No. I can’t be until he’s conscious again, so I can ask him a few questions about the last time this happened.”

“This can’t just a normal fever that’s messing up his magic?” Alan raised an eyebrow.

“When has anything that ever happens in this town been normal?” he pointed out. _True._

Derek went back into the smaller room and sat down in one of the chairs, watching Stiles lay uncharacteristically still in the ice bath. Now that he was more sure Stiles would be okay, he thought back to when the teen first collapsed. His eyes had _glowed._ They’d glowed green. It reminded him of Kate, and how her eyes had glowed down in Mexico when they fought. But Stiles wasn’t a were-jaguar, he was sure of it. He smelled…like Stiles. Like old books, fresh cut grass, and intelligence. He knew intelligence didn’t really have a scent, but there was no other way to describe it.

“Alan?” Derek called. The vet didn’t  even look up from the paper work he was doing when he answered.

“Yes?”

“His eyes glowed right before he passed out.” the older man paused, taking off his glasses and lifting his head to look at him, a slightly surprised expression on his face.

“Stiles is a werewolf?”

“No. they glowed…green. But he doesn’t smell like Kate did.”

It was quiet for a while after that. The only sounds were their breathing, and the heartbeats of all the living things in the building. Stiles’ was too slow for Derek’s liking, but that was what was supposed to happen, so he didn’t complain. It wasn’t until the sun started to rise that something finally happened.

Stiles shot up from the tub, getting slowly melting ice and water everywhere and coughing up the water that had filled his lung. Derek bolted out of the chair and went to his side, helping him out while Deaton got a towel.

“Stiles.” he breathed.

“D-” _cough_ “Derek?” Stiles puttered, blinking water out of his eyes. Derek wrapped the towel around his shoulders and pulled him into his chest without thinking, attempting to warm him up. Stiles was shivering violently, though he may not have realized it yet.

“Stiles, do you remember what happened?” Deaton asked him. The teen’s eyes are darting around the room, not really focusing on anything. His temperature is colder than average, but at least he wasn’t scalding hot anymore. “Stiles?”

“I…p-pres-s-serve?” he managed to stutter.

“Maybe…you should take him home. I believe Mr. Stilinski has school in a few hours.” Was all Deaton said. Derek nodded, carrying a half-asleep Stiles out to the car. The scent of exhaustion and magic surrounded the boy like a cloud. He slept through the whole ride, still shivering when they got to his house.

Derek got there in time to stop Isaac from going out and hunting through the woods for their pack mate. The blonde had apparently been up ever since Stiles left, which was hours ago. He could understand why the beta was so panicked though. He’d grown attacked to Stiles, more than he had been with Scott, ever since the Stilinskis let him stay in their home.

“Is he okay?” Isaac whispered, watching him tuck the teen into bed.

“I’m not sure.”

 

* * *

 

 

"I might _what_?!" Stiles had barely even woken up. It was six in the morning, which was a ridiculous time for him to be awake. But Derek had insisted on talking to him now, since he woke up screaming bloody murder. He tried to say that was normal. Because it was for him. The nogitsune had given him enough guilt and grotesque images to fuel his nightmares for a lifetime.

Six in the morning wasn't a great time to hear you could possible spontaneously combust. No time was really a good time to hear that, but _especially_ not now.

"It's not very likely with the right training, but it could happen." Deaton said, his voice and face freakishly calm.

"I..." Stiles didn't really know what to say. Which was new for him. Because he always had something to say. Derek was watching him warily. "I could die?"

"If I had known what you were before, I would have never let you preform the ritual to find your father. It's had some... Effects on your spark. You're so closely linked to the nemeton, the power it's feeding you seems to be overwhelming you."

"Is there any way to stop it?" Stiles asked after a few moments.

"Yes." He glanced at Derek. "I'm not sure you'll like all the methods, but it will keep your magic from combusting, yes."

"I don't care what I have to do. I would rather live, thank you." Stiles glared at the man. "What do we have to do?"

"You'll need an anchor. And not just something to think about when your magic gets out of control, but someone to anchor yourself to. Take some of the burden off your shoulders.

"What else?"

"We can discuss it more when you're better." The vet sighed. "Until then, try not to use any of your magic." And then he just left. Stiles let out frustrated huff and collapsed into the pillows behind him.

"I'm going to explode." He told his ceiling.

"You'll be fine." Derek promised. Stiles frowned, looking over at him.

"You keep saying that word. I don't think it means what you think it means." He tried. Derek just snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Of course I've seen that movie."

"You're secretly a huge nerd aren't you? I bet there's a hidden room in your loft with a bunch of fandom merchandise. Maybe a life sized Spock cut out or something."

"You're ridiculous."

"I know."

 

* * *

 

 

Derek was a little confused when Stiles asked him to come to his training session with Deaton. But apparently the vet needed to talk to him, so he came along. When he got there, Stiles was flipping through an old leather book, Deaton looking over his shoulder. Scott wasn't there yet.

 "An earth fairy?"

"Yes. I believe Claudia was more closely associated with the earth than the other elements."

"So you're saying I'm a gnome." His nose wrinkled in displeasure. Derek smirked, leaning against the doorframe. Alan looked up and acknowledged his presence, but Stiles didn't seem to know he was there.

"No. Gnomes, while they're not really short men with white beards- thought they can be- are usually just a bit shorter than average. And not as pale."

"Hey!"

"You mother was most likely an elf."

"Aren't they also short? And have pointy ears and stuff? Also, aren't they a different species?" He flipped to another page.

"No. They are a different kind, but not species. Wingless. And taller. But relatively the same."

"Great. So do I have powers? Can I- oh! Do I have to do some cool move like the earth benders?"

"Stiles." Derek called. The boy jumped.

"Jesus! You could have given me a heart attack!" He snapped. Derek rolled his eyes.

"I've been here for a while." He informed him. "And no, I don't think this is anything like the Avatar."

"You're no fun." Stiles grumbled. Deaton cleared his throat.

"Now Mr. Stilinski, I'm afraid this is the part you won't like." The older man put on a pair of gloves. Stiles eyed them warily, and Derek could hear his heart rate go up a bit.

"Why is that?"

"I know you have an aversion to needles, but there really isn't any other way-”

"Needles?!"

"-to do this. There are some wards and runes you're going to need, and the only way to get them is to tattoo-"

"Oh god." Stiles sat down. Deaton stopped, looking down at him.

"And you're going to need them now. Your magic is only going to get stronger."

"Are...are you sure?" Stiles swallowed, looking at the jar of black ink in Deaton's hands.

"Yes. Mr. Hale could probably pull most of the pain, if it helps." Stiles looked up at him. Derek nodded.

"Okay." Stiles said after a few minutes. Derek took the bottle of ink and held it close to his face, inspecting it. It smelled a bit like mountain ash. It also smelled Stiles did after he collapsed a few days ago.

"What is this?" He asked. Deaton took it back and rummaged through one of the many cabinets in the back room.

"Magic." He said simply. "I could do two now, or one today and one tomorrow, but it's best to do as many as possible."

"A-alright." Stiles took a deep breath. Derek could see his fingers picking at the cracked edge of the leather seat he was in. "Okay. Let's do this."

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles passed out halfway through the first tattoo. Derek was pulling pain, yeah, but it was on the back of his neck, and his stupid imagination kept conjuring up scenarios in which Deaton fucked up and went too deep and somehow severed his spine. Which was dumb, yes, but it was all he could focus on. He would very much like to put the whole thing past him and never do it again, but according to the creepy bald veterinarian, he would need more. Wonderful.

Now that they knew what kind of fae he was (green eyes apparently means earth. Of course), Deaton started teaching him how to actually use magic. Because what's the point of being a magical Spark if you never do anything? At the moment, he was trying to do what was supposed to be the easiest thing in the book. Which was to just make grass grow. Not even an actual flower. _Just_ grass. And for all this magic he was supposedly overflowing with, nothing had actually happened.

"This is stupid." Stiles decided, looking up from the patch of dirt he'd been staring at (he'd been staring at it for ten minutes). "It's not working."

"You need to focus." Deaton said simply he'd said it about twenty times already. It was getting annoying.

"I am focused. Nothing is happening. Maybe the soil's like...salted, or something."

"It is not salted." If the man ever actually rolled his eyes, he would be doing it right now. Stiles was beginning to be able to tell the different between his expressions (after he figured out that Deaton actually had expressions other than calm or worried). "You're not concentrating enough. Your mind is on other things."

"It's mischief night next Friday." Stiles whispered.

Normally he'd be psyched. Part of him still is because, hey, pranking teachers with his best friends. But an even bigger part of him is afraid that it was happening all over again. Because right about now was when everything started getting bad. When he started sleeping less, and when he got the idea for the bolts and nails in the box. When the nogitsune showed up.

"What happened last year won't happen again. It's over."

"I know." Stiles shook his head. He'd rather not dwell on that time. "I'm in charge again. And I can't think of a good prank."

"I'm sure you'll think of something."

"Maybe." Stiles sighed. "Is there something else I could try?"

"Yes." The older man looked up from the paperwork he was doing. "Though it won't look like you're doing anything. You're just...connecting with the earth, in a way."

"What?" Deaton sighed. He was a very patient man, but not even Stiles' father could put up with him for this long.

"Close your eyes. Concentrate on the earth around you. You'll know what I mean." _Well, that was vague._

Stiles put his hands on the dirt in front of him and closed his eyes. He felt kind of ridiculous, because they were in a dog park, and people were probably giving him looks. But this was the only place he could do it, because Deaton did in fact have a real job, and training Stiles and making sure he didn't explode wasn't a big enough problem for him to take some time off.

Nothing happened. The dirt was cold, and it would probably be a pain to get out of his clothes. He squeezed his eyes shut. Focused on the earth. And...still nothing. _Mom could probably do it_.

Mom. He missed her. He remembered helping her garden on the weekends. He accidentally stepped on more flowers than he could remember, but she was never angry at him. She would wear some of the flowers in her long brown hair, sometimes tucked behind her ear or in a braid. When she got sick, she tried to tend to the garden. But she was different. Her flowers died. She forgot what they were called. She called him child when she forgot his name sometimes. And she never stopped shaking. But she still tried.

" _Terrae_." He whispered. Which was odd, because he didn't know Latin. At all.

The second the words left his mouth, something...changed. It was like the ground came alive beneath him. He could...he didn't know how to explain it. He just felt connected. Before, it had just felt like he was sitting on dirt. He could sense the other people and animals walking on it. The grass growing. Honesty, it felt a bit weird. He could feel the energy and movement thrumming beneath him.

"Stiles." Someone called. His eyes flew open. The park was empty.

"Huh?" Deaton was standing over him and _woah when did the sun start to set?_

"It's been four hours."

"It felt like four minutes." Stile got up, stretching. "Did I do anything?"

"You managed to sit still the whole time." Deaton smirked (actually smirked. A miracle). "Aside from that, nothing physical happened."

"Oh." Well, that was disappointing. He heard a car pull up, and turned to look at Derek's black Camaro. "Thanks for this... I guess."

"I'll see you tomorrow." The vet said calmly. Stiles jogged over to the car and got into the passenger seat.

"Hey." Stiles grinned at him. And, of course, Derek just frowned.

"Why are you so happy? You know your due for another tattoo tomorrow." Derek reminded him. Ugh. Right.

"Am I not allowed to be happy now?"

"You smell like dirt." Derek said, sniffing he air. "And lavender."

"Weird. But I was sitting in the dirt all day, so that first one is expected. I couldn't even make freaking grass grow, which was disappointing. And I think the park dwellers thought I was crazy." Stiles yawned, scratching at the back of his neck. The tattoo still stung, but it was bearable. "Fuck, I'm tired. Sleep has not been agreeing with me."

"Have you told Alan about this?" Derek questioned.

"It's just nightmares. I'm fine. I used to get them all the time when I was a kid." Stiles mumbled. "They'll go away soon."

"You've had them for over a year, I doubt they'll just disappear."

"How did you know that?" Stiles frowned at him. Derek stared down at the road like it offended his mother for about a minute before answering.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay. That everyone was okay."

"Oh my god." Stiles should probably be creeped out, but he really wasn't. Derek really does care. "Dude. You totally pulled an Edward on us, didn't you."

"What?" Derek's eyebrows crawled up his face.

"I'm actually glad you didn't get that reference. Never read the twilight saga dude. _Never_."

"The twilight- never mind, that's not the point. Stiles, you should try and sleep more." Derek finally got out.

"I'm trying." Stiles sighed. "Can we not talk about this right now? I'm kind of beat. I've got a lot of homework to do." Not actually a lie. Though, most of the homework was from Deaton. Stiles never bothered much with school homework anymore, and his father didn't push him about it.

"Right. Sorry." Derek nodded. Great. Now it was awkward.

"Where's Cora?" Stiles wondered, changing the subject. They hadn't known where she was for a while after Derek came back last year, but she contacted them a few months ago, and Derek visited her for a while.

"Somewhere in France. She was in Asia last time I saw her."

"Is France the go to place for you werewolves?" Stiles asked.

"No." Derek scoffed, rolling his eyes. He pulled up at Stiles' house, right next to the cruiser.

"Fuck. I was supposed to be home before dad." Stiles groaned. "Thanks for this...you know, while my jeep's out of commission."

"No problem." Derek nodded. Stiles got out of the car and opened the door to the house. The Camaro pulled out of the driveway.

"Dad?! I'm home!" Stiles called. His father peeked his head out of the kitchen.

"You're late. Again."

"Yeah, sorry, I kinda lost track of time." Stiles sighed, collapsing on the couch. He was exhausted. "Today was pretty much unproductive."

"I'm sure tomorrow will be better." His dad assured him.

"Yeah, I guess." He agreed. Then he narrowed his eyes at him. "Whatever you're making in there better be healthy."

 

* * *

 

 

Derek pulled the crystal sword out from under the TV. He didn't know exactly how it worked, just that it hurt the fae, Stiles included. He was going to have to ask Deaton about that. Because if Stiles was part fae, then he couldn't really ward his loft to keep the fae out. Stiles wouldn't be able to get in, and Lydia probably wouldn't be able to either, since banshees were a type of fairy.

"What is this thing?" Scott wondered, inspecting it. The blade itself was made of iron, the handle (hilt? Derek didn't know a lot about magical weapons) was white crystal, strange designs etched into it.

"A sword."

"No shit." Scott rolled his eyes. "How does it work? Stiles burned himself when he touched it, so like...what's it made of?"

"I'm not sure, exactly. the blade is iron though." Derek shrugged.

"Why don't you ask that weird bald man Scott spends so much time with?" Liam wondered around a mouth full of food. Derek glared at him.

"Alan Deaton. The vet. Our emissary." He corrected. Liam didn't seem fazed.

"That guy. And I thought Stilinski was our emi-whatever now. Isn't that what he said at the pack meeting?" God, Derek really hated that kid. He opened his mouth to snap at him, but closed it when Scott gave him a look.

"He said maybe. He's still not ready." Scott told him. "Right now, he's still my Second. If he becomes our emissary, Derek will be the second. Or right hand or whatever."

"What?" Derek hadn't expected that. He thought it would be Isaac, since those two were closer.

"We've had our differences, yeah, but I think you could do it."

"Oh." Derek nodded. "Okay."

"I don't think I could ever take Stiles seriously." Liam frowned. "I mean, he's so...goofy. And awkward. Plus, he's human and squishy. Not very good in a fight." What?

Derek scowled at him. He could see Scott getting ready to defend his best friend.

"You really don't get it, do you?" Derek growled. "You can't talk about your second like that. And you hardly even know Stiles. Why do you think everyone goes to him for advice, Liam? Huh? Do you know where we'd all be if it weren't for Stiles? Dead. In the ground. That's where." His eyes flashed blue. "Just because you haven't been here the whole time doesn't mean you get to talk about him like that. And he's actually great in a fight, even though he mostly uses that stupid bat." Derek said as an afterthought.

"I didn't-"

"He's right." Scott said quietly. "Stiles is the one that taught me control. He's saved our lives a bunch of times. And he's the only one brave enough to try and talk to the crazies at Eichen house and find out what Peter knows." Right. That. Liam fidgeted with his hands, eyes cast downwards.

"I didn't mean anything bad. I just think the guy's a little weird."

"Keep your opinions to yourself." Derek grumbled. Scott gave him a weird look.

"Anyway." The alpha began. "You're right. We need to ask him how this works. And what else works against them. If they're here for what Deaton said they were, we need to be able to protect ourselves."

"How are we going to do that without hurting Stiles and Lydia? They've got fae in them, so whatever we do is going to affect them." Derek noted.

"Stiles got all these books on this stuff. Maybe it's in one of them."

"We could test stuff on them and see what works?" Liam suggested. Derek might actually throw him out the window.

"We're not going to experiment on our pack members."

"No, I mean-" Liam let out a frustrated huff. "Like...we can't get past mountain ash. Fairies must have some stuff like that that they can't get past. Why not just test that. Since they're only part fairy, there's got to be some stuff that they can and can't get through."  He finished.

Derek thought about what he said for a moment.

"That's...actually not a bad idea." Derek said, a bit shocked. Liam looked surprised.

“Really?"

"Yeah." Scott agreed. "Deaton's got to have some stuff like that. We still need to watch out for him though. Stiles is just training, he can't even do anything yet. I don't think he can protect himself from those weird monsters trying to claw his heart out."

"He's not going to like the pack trailing after him. He'll know something up."

"We'll figure something out." Scott shook his head. "He's my best friend. My brother. I'm not letting him almost-die again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup. Stiles might explode. I figured, with all that unused magical energy he'd have, that it would have had to happen eventually. And the nemeton is supposed to be this super powerful thing that has tons of magical energy, so that ritual must have messed his up somehow.
> 
> Don't worry, Isaac's POV is coming soon.


	5. I can get over this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Stiles felt his cheeks heat up, and he didn't know why, because he'd never been weird about the two of them being close before. But their faces were just inches away, and how had he never noticed how incredibly attractive Isaac was before? He bit his lip, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion and oh... _oh_. Isaac was watching his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last POV is Isaac's, if that's not very clear.
> 
> There _is_ a panic attack in this chapter, just in case.

Stiles looked at his calendar. Five days till Halloween. Lydia never asked why he was quieter than usual, she already knew. So she distracted him with research and Halloween party planning and looking up dumb costumes. And Isaac helped come up with most of the prank (that the whole senior class counted on him to come up with, for some reason), and Scott played video games with him. So like normal, except less talking on his part.

"Whoop de _fucking_ do, I can make grass grow." Stiles growled, kicking the pot aside. Lydia frowned at him. He'd been in a terrible mood all day. The sky above them held nothing but grey clouds that might pour down on them at any second, and that wasn’t really helping.  "That's not going to help me. That won't save anybody."

"You just started. You need more practice, that's all." She got up from her seat on the porch swing and out a hand on his shoulder. "Calm down. Try something else."

"I'm trying." He spit out. God, he didn't even know why he was so pissed. He could hardly get out of bed that morning. School had been unbearable. He'd had a terrible migraine all day and threw up his lunch (though he didn't eat much) almost as soon as he was finished with it. He left right after that. Lydia had driven him home. And now, they were working on his magic, since his migraine had lessened into a regular headache.

"A week ago you didn't even know you could do this. Now you just made all your grass grow about two feet high. I call that progress."

"I don't need progress. I need an effective defense." Stiles grumbled.

"You'll get there. You just-"

"Stop telling me I just need practice! That I just need to calm down and try again! Because it's _not working_ , Lydia! All I can do is make this stupid fucking grass grow and it's not enough to protect anyone! And it's all my fault!" Thunder boomed behind them, and Stiles hadn't even realized he was grabbing Lydia's shoulders. "They're after me! My heart! My magic! And I can't do anything about it! Everyone's in danger and it's all my fault! And I- I might- I might explode. I-I-I m-might- might d-d-"

His pulse was pounding in his ears, rain was pouring down on them, and it seemed like someone was sucking the air out of his body. His legs suddenly felt weak, and his whole body shook, and before he knew it he was on his knees before her, hands gripping her wrists tightly as he struggled to breathe.

"Stiles." She said softly. "Stiles, look at me." Oh god. He couldn't breathe. Every time he tried to suck in a breath, he just felt even more panicked.

"L-Lydia." He gasped, looking up at her with wide eyes. The rain poured down harder. "I-I can't-" _gasp_ "-breathe."

"Yes you can." She said firmly. "Stiles, take a breath. You're okay. We won't let anything happen to you."

"Th-that's the-" _gaspgaspgasp_ "-p-point!" _Oh god oh god I can't breathe._

"Stiles, it's okay." She soothed. It wasn't working. And the kissing thing she did last year wasn't going to work again. He tried to slow down his breathing, but it just got faster, and his heartbeat quickened. He was cold and shivering and drenched in rain and _I can't breathe_. Fitting, that with all the shit he had been through, he'd die of a panic attack. Great.

"Stiles." A new voice was here. Someone grabbed him from behind, placing one hand over his racing heart and the other around his waist, pulling him back against them. " _Breathe_." His vision was blurred around the edges, but he could see Lydia warily standing over him. His vision blurred a little more, black spotting him vision.

"...okay? Everyone is going to be fine!" Lydia was almost screaming through the howling wind and pouring rain.

"Stiles, breathe with me." Someone said into his ear. He knew that voice. He could feel their stubble against his neck, and then he was turned around and _oh_. Derek. Derek was here. Derek had an arm around his waist. Derek was holding his hand and pressing it to the werewolf's chest. He could feel the older man's steady heartbeat thumping beneath his fingers. Slowly, his breathing went back to normal. He seemed to just...deflate, his forehead landing on Derek's shoulder.

The rain stopped.

"...the grass. I don't know. He hasn't been himself today." Lydia was talking quietly.

"Aren't you guys supposed to be in school?" Derek asked. Stiles lifted his shaky arm and placed it over the man's heart again, fisting his hand in the wet shirt and squeezing his eyes shut. _I can't cry. Not now. Not in front of him._

"He wasn't feeling well." Lydia sighed. "Great. I'm going to catch a cold now."

"Go home, Lydia. I've got this." Stiles could hear her walking away. The sound of her car as she left. And then it was quiet. No birds chirping, no wind. Just the sound of their breathing. His migraine had returned with vengeance, and Stiles just wanted to sleep. He was kind of hungry, but the thought of food also made him kind of sick. "Stiles?" Derek asked.

"Help me." He whispered. He didn't know if he meant help with getting up for help with everything. He didn't care.

 

\---

 

"Is your dad home?" Derek asked softly, opening the door to Stiles' bathroom.

"No." Stiles mumbled. Derek leaned the boy's cold body against the wall and grabbed the nearest towel. He dried his face and arms, then started towel drying his soft brown hair. His eyes were closed, and Derek could tell he still wasn't getting much sleep, if any at all. The dark purple bruises under his eyes were enough proof of that. "You don't have to do this." He whispered.

"I want to." Derek replied. Stiles mumbled something he couldn't understand as he moved his hands to take the hem of the teen's shirt. "Can I...?" Stiles opened his eyes and looked down.

"Yeah." His voice sounded hoarse. Derek lifted the shirt over his arms and head, growing at the angry red scars the creature had left on his chest. _You don't deserve this._

"Stiles?"

"Hmm?"

"You, uh...your pants. They're wet." Derek said. Stiles groaned and opened his eyes again.

"I-I'll be out in a minute." He told him. Derek nodded. He stepped out and sat in the old desk chair, picking at the claw marks that Scott undoubtedly left there. After a few minutes, the door opened again. Derek watched as Stiles appeared, almost naked, from his bathroom. The teen almost didn't make it to his bed before he collapsed.

"Stiles?" Derek asked warily.

"M' fine." Stiles grumbled. Derek went over and draped the blanket over him. The boy reeked of exhaustion and magic, and he looked terrible. Paler than usual, dark bruises under his eyes. Lydia had said he hadn't even really eaten anything today.

"I should go." Derek said after a few seconds. Stiles turned around, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Please stay." He whispered. Derek frowned.

"My clothes are soaked. I have to change."

"P-please." Stiles whimpered. Derek sighed, running a hand through his wet hair. Why did Stiles what him to stay? What could he possibly do to make this better?

"I'm going to go change. Don't worry, I'll be right back."

"Okay." Stiles nodded. He left through the window.

When Derek got back, Stiles was curled up in a ball in the middle of his bed. His back was to the window and his sheets were pulled up this waist. Derek could see the runes and symbols tattooed on his upper back and shoulders. For a second, he thought he was asleep. But then Stiles turned around. "You're back."

"Yeah."

"I wasn't sure..." Stiles sighed, pulling the blanket up more. "I'm tried."

"Then why don't you go to sleep?"

"Because." His voice cracked. "I don't w-want to be alone." He swallowed. "Just...please stay with me." Derek nodded, wordlessly crawling onto the bed to lie next to him. Stiles turned so that he was facing him, then closed his eyes. "Thank you."

"I'll stay as long as you need me."

 

\---

 

 Stiles didn't know if Derek had stayed the whole day or if he left as soon as Stiles fell asleep. All he knew was that the bed was cold. He didn't have to open his eyes to know that he was alone. Or at least, he thought he was. A warm, tough hand touched his shoulder. It wasn't as big as Derek's, but it had to be a werewolf.

"Hey." Isaac's soft voice was barely above a whisper. He opened his eyes. The beta had a worried expression on his face, something he wore often.

"Hi." He groaned and buried his head in his pillow. The bed dipped, and Isaac joined him under his covers. It would have been weird before, but now they were close. Stiles didn't mind.

"Bad day?" Isaac wondered.

"The worst." Stiles replied. Mostly because of his headache and panic attack. Maybe ten percent because Derek wasn't there when he woke up. Though Isaac was a welcome distraction.

"I'm sorry." The blue eyed boy whispered. And Stiles suddenly felt guilty for making him sound so sad, which was ridiculous, because he didn't do anything. He sighed, turning to face him. Isaac was once again buried deep under the covers, only his bright blue eyes and golden hair peeking out like a child.

"It's fine, don't worry about it." He decided to change the subject. "So how was school? Econ and lit must've sucked without me."

"It did." A small smile formed on his lips. "Coach kept mentioning how quiet it was 'without Stilinski yapping his ears off'. And I think Mrs. Jones actually cried."

"Happy tears, I'm guessing."

"You would be right." Isaac laughed. But then he frowned. "Are you cold?"

"What? No."

"You're shivering." Isaac sat up.

"Well, I was kinda...standing in the rain for a while." Stiles admitted. Isaac rolled his eyes.

"Come here." He leaned back down and lifted an arm.

"Huh?"

"Stiles, just- here." The taller boy reached down and wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him close, so that Stiles' head rested in his chest. Stiles was shocked into silence for a few moments, then looked up.

"Thanks." He cleared his throat. "You know, for the use of your internal werewolf heater."

"No problem." Isaac assured him. Stiles closed his eyes, the soft beating of Isaac's heart almost lulling him back to sleep.

He thought about the events of today. God, he knew he shouldn't have gotten so worked up over fucking grass. But he was just so worried about everyone. About himself. His dad, who wasn't the least bit supernatural and entirely too human. If the fae found out where he lived, his dad would be in grave danger. And the pack, they seemed to be willing to do whatever it took to protect him. He couldn't let them get hurt fighting for him. He wouldn't be able to live with himself.

"This is so fucked up." He whispered. He could feel Isaac tense beneath him, his heart beating a bit faster.

"What do you mean? I can-"

"Not this, dumbass. My life." Isaac relaxed a bit. "God, what's _wrong_ with me?"

"There's nothing wrong with you. You’re just...overwhelmed. A lot of shit has happened in the last few days." Isaac's thumb was rubbing soothing circles into his side. "Everyone's a bit fucked up anyway. I mean, look at me. My dad...my father used to beat me. Lock me in a freezer. Derek turned me because he honestly thought living in an abandoned subway would be better for me. And he was right. I can't be in the bathroom or the basement- any dark or small space, really- with the door closed ‘cause I'm super claustrophobic and I'll freak out." He paused. "You're not alone."

"I'm sorry." Stiles said softly, looking up at him. Isaac didn't open up a lot. "I forgot- I didn't realize-"

"It's okay." There was that small smile again. He closed his eyes and settled down again. Wow, he was comfortable. "Stiles?" He asked after a few minutes.

"Yeah?"

"I...I don't- I'm not sure if you want me to know. Or anyone to know. And you don't have to answer, but...have you always had nightmares that bad?" Stiles shot up, staring at him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"How did you know?" He asked quietly. Isaac cast his eyes down to the dark blue comforter over them.

"You scream sometimes. And you talk in your sleep." He looked up at him. "You don't remember?"

Of course he remembered. He remembered waking up screaming, but that had always been when he was alone. He usually just woke up gasping and sweating, and Isaac never seemed to notice. His dad hadn't needed to comfort him since before Isaac came back.

"How...I'm sorry." Stiles told him. Isaac just looked confused.

"What? Why are you sorry?"

"That you have to listen to that. I didn't know...you must not get much sleep."

"I never have." Isaac admitted. "But that's not your fault. It's fine."

"God, Isaac- why do you stay here? I didn't know- waking up to that must be awful. I can't believe-"

"Hey." The beta put his arms around him and pulled him into a sudden hug. Stiles really wasn't expecting that. "Its fine, Stiles, really." He pulled back. And Stiles felt his cheeks heat up, and he didn't know why, because he'd never been weird about the two of them being close before. But their faces were just inches away, and how had he never noticed how incredibly attractive Isaac was before? He bit his lip, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion and oh... _oh_. Isaac was watching his lips. Did he...he couldn't. That wasn't possible. He and Lydia were pushing for Stiles and Derek to get together. He couldn't-

Isaac's lips were suddenly on his own, and he didn't know how to respond. It was chaste, and it only lasted a second, and then Isaac pulled away and scrambled off the bed.

"Isaac-"

"Oh god, I'm so sorry." The werewolf blurted. "You don't even- I don't know what I- I'm going." He went to the open window and started to leave. Stiles could hear him muttering _fuck_ over and over again, and he looked on the brink of tears.

"Wait, Isaac-" he was gone.

Stiles looked down at the now vacant spot on his bed, panting. Had Isaac really just...just kissed him? He had never been attracted to the boy before, not that way, but...no, he liked Derek. Didn't he? He more than liked Derek. But Isaac...oh fuck. He did _not_ have time for this.

 He was so screwed.

 

\---

 

They pretended it didn't happen. When Isaac came back, it was well past midnight, and Stiles was sound asleep. And when he woke up, he didn't mention it. So Isaac didn't either. And maybe that was for the best. Because Stiles likes Derek. And Derek likes Stiles. And this thing he has for either of them is just a dumb crush that he will get over eventually. He had a crush on Scott and he got over it.

He would get over this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Isaac finally did something! And of course, there's too much shit going on in Stiles' life for him to even think about sorting everything out right now.
> 
> Up next, a bit of Roman mythology, Isaac being a complete dork, and Stiles is getting better at control.
> 
> Also, be prepared for a shit ton of Buffy references.


	6. Losing all my drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Focus.” Deaton told him for the billionth time. Stiles tried to suppress a growl – he failed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! 
> 
> Yeah, I know. It's been a while. The computer is still very broken, but I managed to get the documents on Pages on my iPad, so I think I'll be able to start posting again. There might be some spelling errors though. Sorry for the wait!

_Every single night, the same arrangement,_

_I go out and fight the fight._

_Still I always feel this strange estrangement,_

_Nothing here is real, nothing here is right._

_I've been making shows of trading blows,_

_Just hoping no one knows,_

_That I've been going through the motions,_

_Walking though the part,_

_Nothing seems to penetrate my heart._

_I was always brave and kind of righteous,_

_Now I find I'm wavering._

_Crawl out of your grave, you find this fight_

_Just doesn't mean a thing-_

"Stiles?" He jumped and whirled around, almost dropping the glass of milk in his hands.

Isaac was standing at the entrance of the kitchen, a small smile on his face. His hair was messy from sleep, his curls sticking up at odd angles. His sweatpants hung low in his hips, clothes wrinkled.

"Hey." Stiles blushed when he realized he was staring. He turned around and looked down at his...eggs. He made himself _eggs_? He didn't even really like eggs.

"You're up...surprisingly early." Isaac noted.

"What time is it now?"

"Seven."

"Oh." Stiles frowned. Huh. "Well, uh...good morning."

"Morning." The beta mumbled. Stiles stared down at his plate for a few more seconds before thrusting it in Isaac's direction, frowning. "Wha-"

"I don't like eggs." He shrugged, dropping the plate in his hands. "My mom used to love them." Isaac stared at him.

"You don't like eggs, yet you made them anyway?" He questioned, grabbing a fork.

"For you." He blurted, not really wanting to explain his weird morning routine. He saw Isaac's cheeks turn pink, fork halfway to his mouth.

"Oh."

"Y-yeah, you know, figured hey, why not make everyone breakfast since I'm up early anyway? So...yeah." He turned around and opened the fridge. "I-I'll just have toast." He started to pull out some bread and butter. It was silent for a few seconds, the awkwardness of their last moment hanging in the air.

Isaac had kissed him last night. And he really didn't know what to do with that. Because, yes he liked Derek, but he also liked Isaac, as he discovered last night. And while he'd liked the broody ex alpha for longer, Isaac was the only one of the two that showed any interest in him. Maybe he should...give it a shot? God, I need to talk to Lydia. She would know what to do about this. Giving whatever they had a chance would mean losing everything he had with Derek. And he didn't want that. He loved-

"What were you singing?" Isaac asked suddenly. Stiles whirled around, a piece of bread hanging out of his mouth.

"What?" He swallowed and thought back a moment. "Oh. Right. I was singing."

"Yeah."

"Right, uh...it's from Buffy. You know, the vampire slayer?" All he got was a blank stare. "Oh my god. You can't be serious."

"What?"

"You've never seen Buffy the vampire slayer, have you?" He said accusingly, eyes wide. Isaac frowned, shaking his head.

"Uh, no. I never watched much TV." He admitted. Oh. Right. Stiles shoveled the rest of his toast into his mouth, then downed his glass of milk. Isaac watched him, an amused look on his face. When he was done, he spoke.

"Dude, you have missed so much. We have to watch it."

"It's fine, you don't have to-"

"We're watching it." He said, starting for the stairs. "We have to. This is almost as bad as Scott not watching star wars." He started up the steps.

"Okay, even I've seen star wars." Came Isaac's reply. Stiles smiled down at the steps.

 

* * *

 

 

Isaac stared at the tattoo on the back of Stiles' neck during Econ. Coach was rambling on about something he didn't think was important, and Stiles was secretly passing notes with Scott in the seat next to his.

This morning hadn't been as awkward as he thought it would be. Stiles was actually a good singer, despite what he had originally thought. Okay, really, he'd been hoping Stiles was a bad singer. Because Isaac certainly was, and Stiles couldn't be good at cooking and school and singing. He was probably good at other things too, like drawing, or swimming, or something amazing like that. He was going to be good at Magic, that was for sure.

"Hey." Stiles turned around, smiling at him. It was infectious.

"Aren't you supposed to be paying attention?" He asked. Stiles scoffed.

"Clearly, you were the one not paying attention. We have a project, you're my partner." He gestured behind him at the board. Oh. They did have a project.

"Isn't Scott usually the one you do this stuff with?" He raised an eyebrow, Stiles sighed, glancing over at his best friend. Isaac turned to look at him. "Oh." Right. Kira was also in this class. And Scott loved Stiles, that much was obvious, but he was still going to pick his girlfriend over his best friend when it came to stuff like this.

"Yeah." He went and pulled a book out of his bag. "Don't worry, it's an easy one. I'll probably end up doing it all later." He shrugged.

"I don't even know what we're doing." Isaac said honestly. Stiles laughed.

"Yeah, I'm not sure coach cares." He opened the book and started to read. It didn't seem to be in English, but Stiles wasn't having a problem.

"What is that?"

"Hmm?" Stiles hummed, not looking up from the book. Isaac sighed, resting his head in his hands and watching the boy read.

He let his mind wander to their latest threat. The fae. Their dealings with them hadn't been too bad in the past. Okay, yes, they did try and sacrifice Lydia, but everyone got away without any major injuries, so Isaac considered that a win. Now, they were after Stiles. His magic, specifically, which wouldn't be too much of a problem if the only way to get it wasn't to rip his still beating heart out of his chest and eat it on a full moon. Just the idea of Stiles dying made Isaac's breath catch in his throat. They couldn't let anything happen to him.

Though, knowing Stiles, he was going to fight them about it. He'd always been selfless, yeah, but ever since the nogitsune, trying to keep him out of danger was a constant struggle. He was always ready to through himself in the line of fire for them. Literally and figuratively. And if anyone tried to protect him, he'd argue with them. Isaac remembered a particularly long, terrible fight between Stiles and Derek.

It had been a few weeks after he got back from Europe, and Stiles had broken a few ribs in a fight with a Cyclops. Derek hadn't been too thrilled that Stiles had gotten involved, especially since Derek told him not to. But he'd gone anyway, of course, only his beaten old bat in hand and a few potions Deaton concocted. The thing flung him into a tree, but Stiles still managed to bash it's skull in before he collapsed. Maybe that's when Isaac started feeling things for him. When he saw just how brave and selfless he was. Because he didn't know if he could have done that if he had been as scared as Stiles was (and he knew Stiles had been terrified, because he could hear his heartbeat).

Derek and Stiles had screamed at each other for hours, and they didn't talk for weeks after. When Stiles came home that night, he had been absolutely livid. Isaac had just been glad the rage wasn't directed at him.

"What are you thinking about?" Stiles mumbled, eyes still trained on the strange book. Isaac blinked.

"Huh?"

"I can almost hear the gears turning in your head dude." He glanced up, small smile on his lips. "That's your thinking face."

"I don't have a thinking face."

"Yeah, you do. It's the one you're wearing right now."

"My face always looks like this." Stiles sat up straighter, laughing. "What?"

"Nothing." He sighed. He reached up and scratched at his chest, wincing. "Ugh. These better heal into some cool ass scars, or those fairy bitches are gonna pay. This is so uncomfortable."

"Are you in pain? I can-"

"Nah, I'm fine." Stiles waved him off. The bell rang then, and Stiles jumped. He was really jumpy lately, every sudden movement and noise making him jump or freeze. Isaac couldn't blame him, since there were powerful fae after him. "I'm starving." He said after a minute.

"Me too. Come on, Scott's probably waiting for us." Isaac put a hand on his shoulder after he gathered all his things, trying to comfort him. Stiles nodded.

"Yeah." He whispered. Then he shook his head. "Yeah. Man, I really hope they have pizza."

 

* * *

 

 

Derek eyed the pair on the couch. The pair being Isaac and Stiles. They were unusually close today. He knew they had gotten closer over the summer, but today they were...different. Pressed together, Isaac's arm resting behind the paler teen on the couch. It was ridiculous to think that he was jealous of an eighteen year old, but... He was. God, he was jealous of an eighteen year old. He wanted to go other there and pull Stiles away from him. Kiss him senseless. But it was probably best if they had each other. Stiles would only get hurt with him.

"Jordan, Malia, and Kira couldn't make it." Scott announced with a frown. "Jordan has to work, and their parents want them to stay in tonight. So it's just us."

"Should we really be having a pack meeting with a third of our pack missing?" Isaac questioned.

"We'll catch them up to speed later.” Stiles said, making a vague hand gesture. “Why are we here, Scott? I have important things to do.” Lydia asked, sounding bored. She stood beside Scott, hands on her hips. Scott nodded.

“Uh, right.” The young alpha started. “I’m not really sure what I saw, but I was out in the preserve patrolling last night and there was this…thing… near your house, Derek.”

“What?” Derek narrowed his eyes. “What did it look like?”

“Um… there were snakes? And, I know this sounds crazy, but it kind of looked like medusa? Only, not, because I looked it in the eyes – stupid, I know – and I obviously didn’t turn to stone, so I don’t… It had claws for hands, and it had _wings_ man, it was really freaking creepy-”

“Woah woah wait.” Stiles stood up, and Lydia’s eyes widened. “Are you telling me you saw a fucking _Fury_ outside the Hale house?”

“Oh my god.” Lydia muttered. “Bound to happen at some point, I guess.”

“You – no, you’re right, I’m actually surprised it hasn’t happened earlier, to be honest. I mean, Peter-”

“Stop.” Derek snapped. Stiles closed his mouth. “Start from the beginning. Explain. What the hell is a fury?” The Spark mouthed ‘ _seriously_?’ at him before sighing and launching into an explanation.

“Okay, so, The Furies. I’m not going to go into too much detail, but basically, they’re like supernatural cops. They punish mortals who’ve done something really… terrible, like oh, I dunno, _killing a blood relative._ And, uh, who do we know that’s killed at least one of his relatives?” Stiles raised an eyebrow and waited for that to sink in.

“Peter.” Derek breathed.

“Bingo.”

“Wait, what? Your uncle killed someone in your family?” Liam asked. Derek clenched his jaw an nodded. He’d say he couldn’t believe it either, except that was a huge fucking lie. “That’s…really fucked up.” “

Yeah, well Peter’s a pretty fucked up guy.” Isaac muttered.

“You’re saying that these old ladies are here to kill my uncle?”

“Yes. Maybe. Usually, they punish people by driving them mad, but Peter was pretty insane to begin with, so… I don’t know Maybe they’re gonna skip that part and go straight to the torture – wait, you said that you only saw one?” Stiles frowned.

“Yeah. Just one. I couldn’t see or smell any others. And trust me; they’re not hard to miss.” He wrinkled his nose, disgusted.

“Why does it matter if there’s just one?” Liam asked.

“Don’t you guys read?” Stiles huffed. Lydia rolled her eyes.

“They’re called The Furies. As in, multiple. There’re three of them, sisters. _Allecto, Tisiphone,_ and _Megaera_. Seeing just one of them is kind of unusual.” the girl pointed out.

“I could ask Deaton about it tomorrow during training?” Stiles offered.

“Fairy training?’ Liam teased. Derek scowled at him.

“Yup. I’m learning how to turn snotty little betas into monster chow. Care to be my test dummy?” Stiles blinked innocently at him. Isaac snickered, and Scott just beamed at everyone. Lydia rolled her eyes, clearly done for the day.

“I’m going home.” She announced. “Come on, Dunbar. I’m your ride.” She paused.  "Stiles, don’t forget. My house tomorrow at eight.”

“Yeah yeah.” After those two left, the four remaining talked for a bit. But then Scott left for Kira’s house. so that just left Stiles, Isaac, and Derek.

Great.

 

* * *

 

 

“Focus.” Deaton told him for the billionth time. Stiles tried to suppress a growl – he failed.

“Okay look. All I’ve managed to do so far is make grass grow. That’s not very helpful. I can’t even make it shrink back. Do you know what I spent all day doing yesterday? Mowing the lawn. Because we had grass that was three feet tall. Real fun, by the way.” He informed the druid. Deaton just sighed.

“You need something to anchor you.”

“I have an anchor.” he mumbled. Deaton raised his eyebrows.

“Oh? Who?”

“My mom?”

“They need to be alive, Stiles. They need to be aware of it. Your anchor is supposed to help you carry the magical burden. And I didn’t mean that, anyway.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“Motivation. Something to strive for. It can be anything, or anyone.” He paused. “Try this. Let’s pretend you’re in the middle of a fight. You need the magic to work, or else you won’t make it. Life is always a very effective motivator.” the vet told him. Stiles nodded, taking a deep breath.

“Okay.” He agreed. “Life. Right. I can do this.” he cracked his knuckles and looked back down at the patch of dirt before him.

This trick was actually supposed to be helpful. In theory, what he was doing was supposed to crack open the ground wide enough and deep enough for whatever baddie they were fighting to fall into. And then he could close it up and bam. It would be dead. Of course, it would only be useful if he had actually achieved anything.

So far, all he’d actually achieved was a headache. “This isn’t working.”

"I find it worrying that living isn't a strong enough motivator for you."

"Yeah, well..." He sighed. "Life hasn't been too great lately."

"Think about the pack then." Deaton suggested. "You said you were doing this mostly because you wanted to help. So think about using this to help them."

"I _am_." He grit out.

"Try harder, mr. Stilinski." He huffed, then closed his eyes. He felt something, kind of like something was tugging on his insides. It wasn't unpleasant, just a little weird.

And then A fissure the size of the jeep opened up in the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the Furies. And more Buffy, as promised.
> 
> ugh, I know, this chapter was short. It had been a while since I started it and I just didn't know hoe to end it. But, the next one with be longer. Hopefully. 
> 
> And yeah, Derek is jealous. Don't worry, they'll realize what dumbasses they are soon.


	7. Are we...boyfriends?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I've been thinking." Stiles gasps, trying to press their lips back together.
> 
> "Wha...what was that for?"
> 
> "I like you, Isaac." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I'm sorry for the wait. And I'm going to apologize in advance for the long wait after this, because I'm going to try and get most of the other half written before i post anything else. 
> 
> Lydia's POV is in this one, just once.

"Isaac." The beta looks up when Stiles calls his name.

"Hey. Where have you been, I - _mmh_." He starts to say, then gets cut off when soft lips find their way onto his.

Stiles is kissing him. Stiles is _kissing him_. He's too shocked to do anything at first, but then Stiles starts to pull away, and he reacts. Isaac snakes an arm around his waist and pulls him closer. Their mouths are open, and Stiles is licking into his mouth, and he knows he should've stopped him as soon as he smelled the alcohol on him, but fuck, he's wanted this for so long. He does, however, stop when Stiles starts fumbling with the buttons on the beta's jeans.

"I've been thinking." Stiles gasps, trying to press their lips back together.

"Wha...what was that for?"

"I like you, Isaac." The teen blinks at him. "And you like me. I hope. Because you kissed me, so-"

"I do." He coughs. "Uh, like you, that is." Stiles smiles softly, and it sends his heart fluttering in his chest.

"Good. Because I want to date you." _What?_

"You're drunk."

"Not drunk enough that I'll forget this." He shakes his head. "Derek is never gonna like me like you like me. But that doesn't matter anymore, because I like you now." He frowns. "No, that came out wrong. You're not, like, a consolation prize, or anything. I like him. Liked him. And now I like you. Really like you. And you have a nice face and you're a good kisser." His cheeks are flushed. He looks so beautiful, all wide eyes and full pink lips. Isaac just wants to...

"Stiles..." He pushes him back. He's so going to regret this later. "He is going to. He does currently, actually.  He likes you, and I can't take you away from him."

"He doesn't _own_ me." Stiles snaps. "And you don't get to do this. Decide things for me. I can do that myself, thank you. And I've decided that I like you."

"And what about if he does, huh? If he ever finally admits it, I can't-" he swallows, looking down at his homework. "I don't know if I could handle it. Having you ripped away from me like that. So please, just...just don't-" lips are on his again, hands in his hair. He suddenly has a lap full of Stiles, and he's more than okay with it.

 _Fuck it._ He's going to do this. It's probably going to kill him later, because Derek and Stiles are inevitable. The ex-alpha's been shooting him glares ever since the last meeting. Hell, Derek is probably gonna kill him. But for now, he cando this. He should let himself have this. With everything that's going to shit around them...he lets himself have this.

 

* * *

 

 

"Do you hear that?" Lydia grabs the sleeve of Derek's leather jacket, looking around.

He, Scott, Lydia, and Parrish (unfortunately) are running the perimeter. Not much has happened in a while, but Scott had mentioned a Fury a two nights ago, and they've yet to see it again.

"I think it's safe to say that no one hears what you do, Ms. Martin." Parrish informs her with a small smile. Derek doesn't miss the glance she throws his way. The two have been dancing around each other for months now. Age isn't a big concern for them like it is with Derek, even though Parrish is a deputy. They're only seven years apart. So he can't really figure out why they haven't just pounced on each other yet.

Wait no. Parrish is too shy. And Lydia's too stubborn. That has to be it.

"Oh no." Scott mutters. Derek frowns at him.

"What is it?"

"I think-" he wrinkles his nose in disgust. "The Fury." Oh.

When the thing finally comes into view, he realizes why Scott had been so horrified when he was describing it to them. It has a couple of snakes around its head, but they look like they're falling out. He can see now that it isn't just a giant bird with a woman's head, but rather an average sized woman's torso, with large wings where the arms should be, and birds legs with long, sharp talons. It also smells _terrible_ , so he knows he'll never forget it.

"Anyone know how to kill this thing?" Parrish yells, turning to run as it squawks and hisses at them, moving closer.

"My books never mentioned any specific was to kill it. I think just getting it in the heart'll do."

"I'm not sticking my claws in that." Scott looks like he might throw up at the idea. The Fury flies higher, curling its talons and glaring directly at Derek. He swears, shifting into beta form and sprinting away.

"A little help?!"

"Working on it!" Lydia calls back.

The thing sinks its claws into the flesh of his shoulders, and he howls. The sharp points went deep enough to scratch bone, and he's getting blood all over his favourite t-shirt. Derek claws at the meaty part of the thing's legs, realizing too late that he'll certainly break something if he's dropped from this high up.

He lands hard on his left leg, and it snaps like a twig.

"Fuck." He groans. The others run up and peer down at him.

"I can see your collar bones." Lydia says, matter of fact.

"I think I'm gonna be sick."

"I'm sorry." Derek snaps. "Are my _shredded shoulders_ making you uncomfortable?" He can feel the tendons and muscles slowly knitting together, but it's not fast enough.

"Why did it come after you?" Parrish wonders. Lydia bends down and pushes his bones back into place with her hands, and he grunts in pain.

"Maybe because I-"

"Don't even." She rolls her eyes. "I not going to lie, I think I'm seriously considering castrating you if you continue to blame yourself for things you didn't do. And before you bring up Peter, I would like to point out that he came back, and he killed your sister, so I don't think they care that you killed him." She puts her hands on her hips. "Help him up."

"I'm sure it doesn't matter to them why I killed him. He's still technically related to me." He growls. "I thought they were supposed to be here for Peter."

"There not here." She looked up thoughtfully. "Just that one is. Something's not right about this."

"When is something ever right about any of this?" Scott questions.

"I should have taken that job in Seattle." Parrish sighes.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles wakes up with a headache and his face smooched into someone’s chest. He panics for a second, until he remembers last night. The night he got drunk and _shoved his tongue down Isaac’s throat._ Shit. He vaguely remembers telling him that he thought he was a good kisser, and something about Derek. He _definitely_ rememberes the feel of the beta’s hands all over him.

“Stiles?” Isaac whispers, and huh.

So that happened.

“Hi.” He looks up to see Isaac smile sleepily down at him. It's adorable, and he knows then that he's fucked.

Not literally, no. Sadly, he's still a virgin.

“Do you…” the blonde looks hesitant. “Remember last night?”

“Yes.” He says immediately, sitting up straighter. “Yeah. I…I do.”

“And, uh, do you still want to-”

“I like you a lot.” He admits. And it's a shock to him, honestly. How could he not realize he’d slowing falling for the guy that slept fucking five feet away from him every night? Just how oblivious is he? _Very, obviously._ A strangely Lydia-esk voice mumbles. “We don’t have to, though, if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, I want to.” Isaac’s smile is blinding.

“Good – No, don’t kiss me!” Stiles squeaks. “I haven’t brushed my teeth! I’m pretty sure you’d die, considering all your enhanced wolfy senses.” Isaac just laughs. Oh, this is gonna be so great.

“Fine.” He gets up and stretches. For a werewolf, he's surprisingly not hairy. Interesting.

“You just… go eat breakfast or something. Try not to burn toast while I’m gone.” he rolls off the bed and starts towards the bathroom to get ready for school.

“Wait.” When he spins around, the taller boy is just inches away from him, looking uncertain. “Are we…what are we?” oh.

“What do you want us to be?”

“Are we…boyfriends?” he asks quietly.

“Are we?”

“You’re being kind of annoying, you know that? This is a serious conversation I’m trying to have with you, and you sound like a broken record.” He smirks. Stiles rolls his eyes.

“Yes. Yes, we’re boyfriends. And we’re going to be late too if you don’t let me use the bathroom.” He huffs.

When they get to school, Isaac insists on rubbing his face all over Stiles’ neck in the parking lot. People stare, and his face feels like it was on fire. He doesn't know whether it's because he smells good – and he doubts that's why – or because scenting is a wolf thing. It's probably the later. And the pack isn’t anywhere in sight yet, but when they get there, they’ll know something's up.

Surprisingly (or maybe not), Lydia's the first to notice.

“There’s a hickey on your neck.” She states when she sits next to him. He blushes.

“Really? Are you sure? I think that’s just a bruise, Lydia. I probably just fell, okay, it’s not-”

“Onto a pair of lips?” she raises an eyebrow. He sighs.

“yeah, I guess that’s about right.”

“Derek finally grow a pair and tell you how he feels?”

“What?” Stiles sputters. “Uh, no?! Why – don’t mess with me Lydia. Derek doesn’t… no.” he gives her a small smile then, remembering when Isaac pushed him up against the jeep and kissed him. “I’m sort of…with Isaac, now, actually.” Lydia looks…incredibly offended, actually.

“What?”

“Uh…”

“How did I miss this?” huh? “Oh god, it had been so obvious.” She rubs her temples like she just got the worst migraine in history.

“What are you talking about?” He tries. She narrows her eyes at him.

“I’m not discussing this with you yet until I have a clear solution to your problem. Clearly, this is much worse than I thought, and you’re all idiots.”

“Hey!”

“In the meantime, I have to tell you about last night.” She sighs. “It’s getting worse.”

“What is?” He gulps. Part of him doesn't want to know the answer. A big part of him.

“The Beacon.”

Great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, that was incredibly short! Just around 1500 words, and I'm sorry. But the next ones will be longer, I swear.


	8. Chapter Eight – Our Hometown's in The Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We really should be talking about what we’re going to do when everything inevitably goes to shit, but, just so I get this straight,” Lydia flips her hair over her shoulder. “You’ve been crushing on Derek for a while now, and apparently you’ve been crushing on Isaac too. You love Isaac, but you also love Derek, correct?”
> 
> “Yeah.”
> 
> “And you think Derek doesn’t love you back.”
> 
> “He _doesn’t_.”
> 
> “So you’ve settled for Isaac?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD THIS IS SO LATE I'M SO SORRY.  
> So many things need to done. Cosplays, school work. If you saw my tumblr a few weeks ago, i did a lot of short fics for people? yeah.   
> I was really unmotivated for a while, but now im back! And i'll try to update this a lot more. I've already started the second installment, because i know what i want to do, its just the middle part that i didn't know about.  
> until now.   
> Okay, i'm done.

Stiles groans, throwing himself back on Lydia’s large, comfortable bed.

“He’s so great, you know? And I feel like such an ass, because every time Derek’s around I just…” he sighs. “I’m just going to end up hurting him.”

“We really should be talking about what we’re going to do when everything inevitably goes to shit, but, just so I get this straight,” Lydia flips her hair over her shoulder. “You’ve been crushing on Derek for a while now, and apparently you’ve been crushing on Isaac too. You love Isaac, but you also love Derek, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“And you think Derek doesn’t love you back.”

“He _doesn’t_.”

“So you’ve settled for Isaac?”

“No!” he sits up quickly, glaring at her. “I haven’t _settled_ on Isaac. I still like him a lot. It’s not like he’s my back-up boyfriend.” She nods, not at all affected by his anger.

“Okay.” She says after a moment. “Okay. I think I know how to fix this.”

“You do?” He frowns.

“Yes. But, we’re not talking about that right now. That can wait. Like I said, bigger things to focus on at the moment. Like the Nemeton and the beacon.”

“Right.” Stiles runs a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. “You said it got worse?”

“There was only one fury when Scott, Derek, Parrish and I went patrolling. And it attacked Derek for no reason. So, either the beacon is attacking monsters here without a cause, or someone is using the power from the nemeton to control creatures against their will, targeting the McCall Pack specifically.” She turns to face her laptop. “I don’t think Scott’s pissed anyone off recently –”

“Well, um –”

“I mean someone magical and important.”

“Oh. Right. No, then.”

“Right. So, I can’t think of anything or anyone that might be doing this.” Lydia concludes.

“You mean not counting the apparent evil fairy witch who wants to eat my heart for breakfast, right? Or the plenty of other people that must know about this supposedly powerful spark in Beacon Hills.” He points out. She blinks.

“I forgot about that.” She admits.

“Great.”

“To be fair, you haven’t done anything particularly magical lately, aside from being magically oblivious to people’s feelings for you.”

“I thought we weren’t gonna talk about that.” He grumbles.

“I had an opportunity and I took it.” She shrugs.

“I – you know what, never mind. Do you think the Fae could be doing this? Sending this things after us as a distraction?” He wonders.

“It’s possible. A lot more likely than anything else we’ve come up with so far.”

He nods, leaning back against her pillows, thinking over everything that’s happened in the past few weeks.

So, he’s magic. He’s got over ten tattoos now, and every time he looks in the mirror now, he feels like something’s missing. He can’t tell what, exactly, but he feels it. There’s an eveil Fae after him so she can take his powers and use them for what are probably nefarious purposes. He’s dating Isaac, and he’s still in love with Derek. The Beacon might be getting worse. Halloween is

Fuck, Halloween _is tomorrow_.

“Lydia?” He calls.

“Yeah?” He looks over her shoulder.

“Tomorrow, if i… If I do anything, I want –”She gets up abruptly, going to sit in front of him and take his hands in hers.

“Stiles. I swear to you nothing is going to happen tomorrow. You’re going to be okay.”

“You can’t know for sure.” He insists.

“Yes I can.” She smiles. “I’m a banshee, remember? I know everything.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I don’t think we should stay here.” Scott says suddenly. Derek looks up to the door, surprised. He hadn’t heard him come up.

“What?”

“Here. After high school. This place isn’t good for the pack.” The Alpha repeats, dropping his backpack on the floor. He goes to the kitchen counter, were Derek is preparing an incredibly late lunch. “Next year. We have to leave.”

Derek thinks about it. That had been his initial thought when he became Alpha. He actually did leave for a while, after the Alpha Pack. But he couldn’t stand being away from Beacon Hills, not really. This was where his family has been for generations, and he didn’t want to just up and leave forever. If another pack took Beacon Hills….

“Part of your pack’ll still be in high school next year, remember? Liam, Mason, and all the other betas you’re considering adding?”

“They can join us when they graduate.” he dismisses. “I’m serious Derek. I can’t stand it here, and everyone else is miserable. I don’t think we can stay another year.”

Derek stares at him. He’s never disagreed so much with something Scott has suggested as much as he does now. This kid is his Alpha. He should feel wrong about not going along with the idea. And yet, he doesn’t want to listen.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He says slowly. He doesn’t want to start a fight, he knows Scott’s a good Alpha, but…

“Why not? I thought you hated this place as much as the rest of us?” Scott frowns.

“It’s just…the Hale Pack has had the Beacon Hills territory for generations. I don’t think it’s such a good idea that we leave now. And we don’t know of any other places that don’t already have a pack.” He points out.

“But we aren’t the Hale Pack anymore, Derek. We’re the McCall Pack.”

That’s right.

“Right, uh.” He frowns down at his lunch, suddenly not hungry. “I…yeah. You’re right. We should talk to Deaton about possible places to move the pack.” Scott smiles, taking one of the grapes from a bowl he has on the counter.

“Cool. I’ll come up with something before the next pack meeting.” He goes to get his backpack. Derek watches him, feeling more confused than ever, because everything in his is resisting. He knows Scott’s his Alpha, he’s accepted it, but…

He’s not part of the McCall Pack anymore. And he has no idea how that happened.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Isaac wakes up from his nap when someone’s lips press against his. He smiles, reaching up and putting his hand on the back of Stiles’ neck.

“Hey.” He whispers, opening his eyes.

“Hi.” Stiles leans back, looking around. “You know you don’t have to sleep on this shitty cot anymore. You can sleep on the bed, I don’t mind.’

“No, but I met you dad might have a problem with it.” he reminds him. Stiles rolls his eyes, getting up and offering him a hand.

“Relax. Dad loves you. Besides, I don’t think he has to worry about you deflowering me while he’s home. He doesn’t even know we’re together yet.”

“What about when he’s not home?” He mutters, cheeks flaming. Stiles hears him, and grins.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” He shrugs, cheeks equally as red. Isaac is suddenly extremely nervous, because – he’s never had this before. Well, okay – that’s not entirely true. He had it with Allison, but…she died.  She was the one person he was attracted to, sexually, and now there’s two, and one of them is right in front of him, and –

He’s not sure what he’s supposed to do.

“I’ve never…I don’t –” Stiles frowns, through more out of concern than anger.

“I thought you had sex with Allison.”

“I did. I mean – with a guy – sex isn’t –”

“If you don’t want to do anything right now, that’s totally okay, you know that, right?” Stiles assures him, gripping his hand tightly. “I mean, I get it. I was just joking earlier, it’s not like we have to have sex _right now_. I kind of don’t want to, either, I mean, after Malia…” He shakes his head. “Point is, whatever you want to do, at whatever pace you want to do it, is fine.”

“Thanks.” He says quietly. Stiles kisses his quickly on the cheek, and then pulls him towards the bed.

“No problem. Now, come on. I’m exhausted. Magic training is apparently very tiring.” He yawns, flopping down on the bed. Isaac goes and turns off the lights before getting in bed and pulling the covers over the both of them. As he closes his eyes, a thought occurs to him.

“Stiles?”

“Hmm?”

“What happened between you and Malia at Eichen?” And he knows that’s the wrong thing to ask, because Stiles stiffens.

“I…nothing good. I’ll tell you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Deaton flips the ‘open’ sign on his door to ‘closed’ and goes back to his office. He plans on finishing up some paperwork for a few of his patients. But then he feels it.

The power in the Hale pack has shifted. He knows the others won’t feel it, because they technically aren’t the Hale pack. Not anymore. Maybe Derek will. Though, he suspects, if Derek felt it, he would have heard the howl by now.

When his phone rings, he knows who it is before he checks.

“Marin.” He greets.

“Alan.”

“You know.”

“I got a call from a frantic old woman in New York saying a mysterious girl appeared Naked in her apartment. I can’t know for sure, but I felt it.”

“So she’s back then.”

“Someone brought her back.” His sister sighs. “Julia may not be as dead as she seems.”

“That may not be our only problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you see my new tag? Hopefully it's not hard to guess who the confused Demisexual is. 
> 
> Already started the next chapter, and hopefully, it'll be up in a few days.


	9. Chapter Nine – Back to Where We Used to Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I want to.” He whispers, looking up at him.
> 
> Stiles looks so gorgeous. He always does, and Isaac is kind of amazed, honestly, because _how does someone look like that all the time_?
> 
> “I love you.”
> 
> (AKA Halloween Pt. 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE LATEST EPISODE LITERALLY JUST ENDED IM CRYING
> 
> THIS WAS THE WORST OH MY GOD HELP

She pricks her finger, lets a drop of blood drip onto the tree. She doesn’t need to look down to know it’s hit the center. She can already feel the power of it spreading through the preserve, touching everything above and below until it find’s its mark.

She can’t believe who she used to be had been hidden from her for so long. She’ll thank Stiles when she finds him, for…helping her find herself. Yes, that’s a great way to put it.

Eternity in a hell dimension is a bitch, and she plans on getting her compensation.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re coming to my party.” Lydia says. Derek frowns.

“No.”

“Yes, you are. There’s no reason for you not to.” She side eyes him. “It’s not like you’re a creepy old perv. You’ve five and half years older than me.” Derek sighs.

“I just don’t want to.”

“You mean you don’t want to see Stiles and Isaac together.”

Lydia knows too much. Derek sighs again, looking at anything but her. Yes, that’s true. He knows he can’t avoid the two most important members of the pack forever, but he’s gonna try. It’s been so confusing lately. Every time he looks at them, he’s always so angry. The two most beautiful people – and, we’re not even going to address the fact that he finds Isaac attractive, apparently – are dating each other, and he sort of might have a huge fucking crush on the both of them.

This is the worst time for this.

“If I say yes will you drop it?”

“Yes to what?”

“I don’t…want to see them.” He admits. She smirks.

“You can’t avoid them forever.”

“I thought we weren’t talking about this anymore.”

“I never agreed to that.” She sounds smug, and he hates her a little bit.

“Lydia, can you just – I don’t want to talk about my love life.”

“So you love them?”

“ _Lydia_.”

“No. She says firmly. “I’m sick of this. Sick of seeing all of you dance around each other, thinking you all hate each other. This is ridiculous. I want to see my friends happy, okay? You deserve it.” She finishes, looking him in the eye. “You deserve to be happy.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done.” He whispers. Her eyes soften, and she puts a hand on his shoulder. It calms him, somehow.

“We don’t care what you think you did, Derek. We love you anyway.” She pauses. “Now, I think I have the solution to your problem.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

There’s sweat dripping down his face, drenching his t-shirt. It’s hot out, hotter than usual, and Stiles is sitting in the dirt, trying to grow a damn tree from nothing.

It’s not working.

The tattoos on his upper back and shoulders glow silver, which Deaton finds impressive, though he doesn’t say why. He feels drained and nothing is working, so he’s about ready to give up.

“Maybe I’m not as magical as you thought I was.” He pants, chest heaving. He feels like a run a marathon. “I mean, maybe my mom was only, like, second generation Fae, or something. That’s a thing, right?”

“Patience, Mr. Stilinski. It takes years of practice to know how to properly handle magic, even for someone as powerful as you.”

“That’s just it, though!” He explodes, standing up and flailing. “I’m not powerful. I can’t be! I’ve barely done anything in, what, the two months you’ve been training me? Oh, whoop-dee- _fucking_ -do, I made grass grow! I cracked the ground open that one time! You know what else I’ve done?! _Nothing_. I’ve done nothing particularly useful since we found out what I was, I’m beginning to think maybe you were wrong!” He yells. Deaton stares calmly past him, as if he hasn’t said a word, but he’s…he looks confused.

“Stiles.”

“ _What_?” He growls.

“I believe I may have been wrong before. You’re not an earth elemental.”

“That’s what I just –” Deaton grabs his shoulder turns him to the side ti face one of the trees around them.

It’s on fire.

“You’re something else entirely.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Derek’s avoiding us.” Stiles says quietly, dropping his backpack down on the bedroom floor. Isaac looks up from his homework.

“I can only guess why.”

“Maybe he’s jealous I’ve got such a hot boyfriend.” Stiles is joking, but Isaac can tell it bothers him.

“Or the other way around.” He nudges him gently with his shoulder. Stiles sighs, looking down at his hands. He smells sad, and nervous. The latter is probably because it’s Halloween. Isaac remembers that this used to be his favourite holiday, before the nogitsune.

“I don’t want it to go back to the way it was before. I don’t want him to…to hate me. We become friends, you know? And now…” Stiles slums. “Now it’s like we’re right back where we started.”

“He doesn’t hate you, Stiles.”

“Feels like he does.” He mumbles. He shakes his head. “Whatever. I’ve got you.” He’s quiet for a moment. “We need to talk.”

“A-about what?” He knows what kinds of things come out of ‘we need to talk’.

“Deaton…” _oh thank god_. “He said he was wrong. About me. I’m not what he thought I was. I’m still Fae, I think, but I’m not…I set a tree on fire.”

“What?”

“A tree. On fire. With my hands. I was angry, and I didn’t even notice I set a god damned tree on fire.” Stiles worries his bottom lip between his teeth, anxiety building up. “If I did that without noticing, what else can I do? What if I can’t control this? You guys already get hurt because of me, I don’t want to be the direct reason – I mean, Isaac, I heard him talking about witches and ancient magic and –”

“Woah, hey.” His hands are shaking so badly they were vibrating. He grabs one, holding it tightly. “You’re freezing.” And he is. Stiles’ hands are like ice, skin pale and tips of his fingers tinged pink.

“My hands are always cold.” He dismisses, trying to rub his hands together. “It’s fine.”

“Let me –” He brings their hands up to his mouth, blowing hot air over them, and Stiles blushes, watching.

“My hands are never warm, you don’t have to –”

“I want to.” He whispers, looking up at him.

Stiles looks so gorgeous. He always does, and Isaac is kind of amazed, honestly, because _how does someone look like that all the time_?

“I love you.” He blurts, and fuck, that’s a mistake. Stiles pales, and before he even knows it, the fae’s up on his feet, smelling like misery.

“No.” Stiles insists. “No, you don’t.”

“I – I do, Stiles, I –”

“No, you can’t! You – this isn’t fair.” He’s in tears, and Isaac just doesn’t _understand_.

“What’s wrong? Stiles –”

“I have to go.” He blurts, and then Stiles is

He’s just gone, leaving Isaac alone and confused, and right back to square one.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles runs. He doesn’t know how long, or how far, exactly. Not until he arrives at the loft and almost collapses against the walls. His chest is heaving, breathing harsh, and he leans against the wall, cradling the hand Isaac had been holding to his chest.

_“I love you.”_

He feels like an asshole. He doesn’t deserve Isaac, he knows he doesn’t. Because he’s just going to end up hurting him. He’s had feelings for Derek since god knows when, and all for this is just confusing him. He knows Derek doesn’t like him back. He can’t, right? Stiles is just a kid. He’s fucking 17 years old. Derek would never –

Fuck, this doesn’t even matter! He’s with Isaac, he’s – unless. Isaac doesn’t want him anymore. He can’t after what just happened. Oh god. Oh god oh god _oh god_ why –

“Stiles!” Derek’s shouting in his ear, and it takes him a moment to realize that Derek’s been calling his name for a while.

“Derek?” he blinks, sucking in a ragged breath.

“I could hear your heart hammering from the loft.” He says, voice filled with concern. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t think so.” He mutters, more to himself than to Derek.

“Lets get you inside. You’re soaked.”

And, oh, it rained? How did he not notice he was running in the rain?

“Derek, wait.” He blurts. Derek stops, and he’s so close. “I just…I need to…do you trust me?”

“With my life.” Stiles hadn’t expected that. He gapes at him for a moment, but Derek seems completely honest.

“Okay. I – don’t kill me.” he breathes. And then he presses their lips together.

It’s soft, at first. Hesitant. Derek doesn’t move, Stiles doesn’t even think he breathes, and he’s sure this is a mistake. But then he pushed back hard against the wall, and Derek’s hands are on either side of his face, angling the kiss so it’s deeper, not as gentle. He moans, he han’t not, and he hates himself.

He can’t face Isaac after this.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“My original observations were wrong. He’s not an elemental at all, it seems.”

“Then what do you suppose he is?”

“Something old. Something powerful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these chapters are coming out so much shorter than I want them to. the next chapter will be longer though, definitely.
> 
> It's probably not obvious what Stiles is yet, though i'd love to hear your guesses


	10. Chapter ten – From the Wreckage Build a Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Because I love you!” he stands, because he can’t not. He’s never been known to just sit still, why start now. “Both of you! And if I fuck this up – things will never be the same between us ever again! Because I – I’ll fuck up somehow! I know I will. I’ll – I’ll spend too much time with one and not the other, or I’ll say the wrong – the wrong thing and one of you will have to choose between me and the other in an argument. I’ll get on your nerves, because that’s who I am!”
> 
> (Halloween Pt. 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while! School's started up again, and i didn't really feel motivated to continue this. I really shouldn't start posting anything until i have at least half the actual fic done.
> 
> Chapter title from '[From the Wreckage Build a Home](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=te6GEfpJjks)' by The Wind and The Wave

“Stiles.” Derek gasps against his lips. His eyes are glowing electric blue, casting a faint glow on his eyelashes and cheeks. Stiles leans back against the wall, suddenly aware of the cold deep in his bones, clothes stuck to his skin with rain water. Derek’s arms are on either side of him, trapping him in. He breathes in as deep as he can.

“I fucked up.” He blurts.

“You didn’t” Derek says simply. Like it’s that easy.

“You don’t even – you don’t even know what I _did_.” He stresses. “This! _This_ is what I did! Isaac – he’s so sweet and amazing and I think – you’re such a fucking asshole damn it. How could you let me kiss you?!” Derek blinks.

“To be fair, you didn’t tell me what you were going to do.” He smirks, and that’s – that’s a joke. Derek Hale is joking with him. He’s not used to this, and it’s throwing him off.

“Don’t play with me. How could you – you knew how I felt about you.” He’s getting increasingly pissed off and frustrated and so fucking _confused_ as he speaks. “You have to know. Because everyone knows! And you – werewolves can smell this shit, can’t they? So there’s no way you couldn’t have known, but you never said anything. And I always thought maybe that’s just because you don’t… you don’t want me. You _can’t_ want me. And – I’m dating Isaac now. He’s my boyfriend, and I just _kissed you_. And I’m not dead? Why haven’t you done anything to me?”

“Stiles –”

“Why haven’t you yelled at me? Why haven’t you told me to get lost, and that it’s not like that? That I’m too young? Why aren’t you fighting with me?” He continues. “You should be. Because you don’t want me, Derek, you’ve made that much perfectly clear. You can’t – you let me think you don’t want me.” He finishes weakly. Derek sighs.

“I’ve wanted you for a while now, Stiles.” Derek whispers. Stiles feels like the air’s pressing in from every angle.

“No you don’t.” He says numbly.

“Yes. Yes I have.” Derek reach out, like he’s going to touch Stiles’ face, or maybe his hair. But he stops, thinking better of it, and leans away, dropping his hands to his sides. “Someone important told me I shouldn’t keep myself from getting what I want. I want _you_ , Stiles, among other things, and I’m only going to step back if you want me to.” He takes a deep breath. “Do you want me to, Stiles?”

“I…” He swallows. “I don’t…”

“I’ll stop if you want me to.” Derek assures him.

“I…I don’t know.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Freaking out is a gross understatement.

Isaac is way past the point of just ‘freaking out’ right now.

Stiles just left. Isaac said ‘I love you’ to someone for the first time in years and they ran away from him in tears. He’s not really sure what this means. Honestly, he feels kind of numb right now, staring blankly at Lydia’s car dashboard.

“Doesn’t Stiles usually drive you everywhere?” She wonders.

“Yeah.” He says flatly. He doesn’t notice that Lydia’s pulled over until the engine cuts off, and the only noise is their breathing and heartbeats.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re off.” She raises an eyebrow. “What happened at the library? Where’s Stiles? You two are supposed to be getting ready for the party tonight.”

“I think we broke up.” He admits.

“Oh my god.” Lydia sounds like she’s completely done with him, which is kind of confusing honestly. He expected a bit more compassion, maybe.

“What?”

“You two aren’t broken up. You’re being morons, is what you’re doing, but you certainly aren’t broken up.” he frowns at her. She just sighs, like it should be easy to understand what she’s trying to say, and turns to face him fully. “Here’s what you’re going to do.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles is in his jeep when he gets the call.

And by ‘The Call’, he means the moment Deaton decides to drastically change his life more than it already has been. Like, more than he did when he said Stiles might fucking explode.

“I’m what.”

“It’s true your mother was part Fae, but you actually appear to be a very powerful Mage. And I suspect that the fae that were after you were working for a witch.”

“You –” He pauses. “This is a lot.”

“You knew that.”

“I thought I was a fairy! You know, simple shit. Now you’re telling me I’m a wizard?! A powerful wizard!? And a witch wants to drain my magic?” He groans. “I think I liked it better when some lady just wanted to eat my heart.”

“This is a powerful witch, Stiles, if she can get the fae to work for her. You have to be careful.”

“I don’t want to be careful.” He hisses. “I want to have a normal god damn life. I want to not be physically and emotionally exhausted all the time. To stop worrying about whether or not I’m gonna die before I turn twenty one. About leaving my dad alone. I want to stop running, Deaton! Do you fucking get that?!” He snaps. It’s silent for a moment,  nothing to be heard but his angry panting.

“I understand that this isn’t easy, Stiles. But sometimes what isn’t easy is necessary for the good of others.”

“Don’t give me that Star Trek shit.”

“I don’t think you understand how grave this situation is.”

“I understand perfectly. Some bitch wants me dead.”

“Your life isn’t the only one at stake. This isn’t just about you anymore. If an already strong witch manages to take your magic for herself, I doubt there’s anything in the world that would be able to stop her.”

“Deaton.” Stiles snarls. “I get the feeling there’s something you aren’t telling me.” Silence. “Just how powerful am I?”

Deaton hangs up on him.

He lets out a frustrated yell, throwing his phone in the back seat and gripping the steering wheel. He can feel his magic thrumming just under his skin, itching to lash out at something. It reminds him of the ice bath, but it’s not quite the same. He’s in control, now. His magic listens to him more than before. Now, everything’s sharp and focused every sensation heightened. He closes his eyes and forces himself to take a breath.

He feels like he’s going to explode. And maybe not in the magical sense. There’s just…too much. There’s a witch out to get him, his magic is a lot more powerful than he ever realized, and he might be in love with both Derek _and_ Isaac. His life sounds like a really bad TV show.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Mom?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Alright.” Lydia says when Derek arrives. “I’m sick of this. Get in here, the other two are waiting for you.”

There are already probably over 200 kids in Lydia’s backyard, music loud and the smell of sex and alcohol and sweat in the hair. Inside the house is a lot quieter, with only a few kids in the kitchen getting drinks, or upstairs making out.

When she pushes him unto the study, he sees that Isaac and Stiles are there, the later curled in on himself and facing away from the door.

“Derek.” Isaac gives him an awkward smile.

“Dear lord.” Lydia huffs. “Okay. The three of you, face me, and just fucking listen for a second. You too, Stiles.”

And then she explains. Derek’s heard the whole thing before, so he doesn’t pay much attention, watching Isaac and Stiles’ reactions instead. Isaac’s expressions go from confused to wary to hopeful throughout the whole thing. Stiles, however, doesn’t give away much. Derek’s forgotten that Stiles never really does. As expressive as his face is, no one knows what he’s thinking if he doesn’t want you to.

When Lydia’s done, it’s silent for a moment.

“Did she really just propose we have a threesome?” Stiles wonders.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_“Now, I think I have the solution to your problem.” Lydia says. Derek sighs, feeling tired. He’s almost always tired, lately._

_“What is that, exactly?”_

_“Date them both.” She says simply. Derek blinks._

_“What.”_

_“Date them both. As in, date Isaac and Stiles at the same time. Together. While they date each other. It’s called polyamory, and ti seems to be the only solution to your current problem.”_

_“I don’t understand.” He tells her, because he really hasn’t processed this yet She rolls her eyes._

_“You told me you love Stiles, right? But you also have feelings for Isaac, don’t you?” He nods. “Right. And Stiles and Isaac at least like each other, obviously, or they wouldn’t be dating right now. So, since you all like each other, you should all date each other. Because we both know that forcing Stiles to choose one or neither of you it’s not only_ not _going to work, but he is too fragile right now to deal with you two morons silently fighting over him.”_

 _“That’s_ exactly _why we shouldn’t –”_

 _“No. Don’t.” She shakes her head. “Maybe, if this was someone else – someone more normal – then yes, it probably wouldn’t work. But it’s not someone else, it’s_ Stiles _, and he’s never needed normal. He just needs what makes him happy. And you two make him happy. You made each other happy, before this ridiculous mess. It only makes sense that you all be together.” She flips her hair over her shoulder. “Besides. Humans are the only species that practice monogamy, and neither of you are really 100% human.”_

_He thinks it over._

_Both of them? He’s never even considered it before now. It was a fleeting thought, once, when the two of them got together, and Derek realized that he might be interested in Isaac too. The thought of this scares him, because what if they can’t make it work? He’s already bad at relationships, but a relationship with_ two _people instead of one? He doesn’t know if he can handle that._

_“I don’t know.” he whispers. Lydia takes his hand in hers and smiles warmly at him – as warm as Lydia Martin can look._

_“This will work. I’m a banshee, remember? I knew things.”_

 

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles is having a hard time absorbing all this. Distantly, he hears Lydia leave, giving them privacy. Derek and Isaac are alternating between looking at each other and looking at him. He’s just…so overwhelmed. He never thought…both of them? Both of them want to be with him? With each other?

“That won’t work.” He blurts.

“Why not?” Isaac frowns.

“Because we – none of us even know how to be in a relationship!” He finds himself scrambling for an excuse not to do this. He’s scared because…The idea of being with the both of them actually sounds amazing. But if it doesn’t work? What will they do then? It’ll ruin everything they’ve worked up to, if this fails. And he just wants one thing in his life to go right. If he doesn’t do this, then there’s no way it can fail. Yeah.

“We’re in a relationship _right now_ , Stiles.” He points out.

“And I freaked out not even a week later.”

“That doesn’t mean this won’t work.” Derek says.

“You don’t know that.”

“Why are you so against this?” Isaac asks him.

“Because I love you!” he stands, because he can’t _not_. He’s never been known to just sit still, why start now. “Both of you! And if I fuck this up – things will never be the same between us ever again! Because I – I’ll fuck up somehow! I know I will. I’ll – I’ll spend too much time with one and not the other, or I’ll say the wrong – the wrong thing and one of you will have to choose between me and the other in an argument. I’ll get on your nerves, because that’s who I am!” he finishes, shoulders slumming.

“You won’t.” Derek says after a moment.

“But I –”

“No.” Isaac gets up and before he knows it he’s pulled into an almost crushing hug. He tenses for a moment before just…letting go. Someone’s hand is in his hair, and he’s guessing it’s Derek. “I think that, no matter how much of an infuriating little shit you are,” he snorts into Isaac’s shoulder.

“– We’ll still love you.” Derek finishes.

“So we’re actually going to do this then?” Stiles wonders, pulling back and looking at them. “You know we’ll have a lot of shit to talk about, right?”

“Yes, Stiles. We’re really doing this.” Isaac says softly.

“Awesome.” He breathes.

Of course that’s the moment the world decides to fuck their shit up again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She doesn’t understand how she got here.

Because okay, it’s not like she doesn’t know what happened to her, before this. She died. That much is clear. Not like she can forget the hours of torture that lead to her demise. How she ended up in the middle of the preserve, on some big ass tree, naked as the day she was born, however, is still a mystery.

She can hear people – stupid kids that think walking in the woods in the middle of the night is cool – and walks. She doesn’t really care that she’s naked when they finally see her. She never really minded nudity before, and becoming a wolf only added to that.

“Woah.” One of the boys – and they are boys – whispers. “Dude, those are _boobs_.”

“D – do you need help?” one of the boys stutters. She flashes him a grin.

“Do any of you boys have a phone on you?” the one that spoke up nods. “Mind if I borrow it?”

When he tosses it, she takes a moment to recall the number. She didn’t’ exactly have it memorized, but after that _incident_ with the old guy, she wanted to be sure she had at least one contact she could rely on. She punches it in, and waits.

“Hello?” Derek answers. He sounds different than she remembers.

“Miss me, Alpha?” She wonders. There’s a sharp intake of breath, and then –

“Erica?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes! Erica's back! and the boys finally got their shit together, courtesy of Lydia.
> 
> Next chapter: the pack try and figure out why Erica's back, another member returns, and the boys discuss how this new relationship'll work.
> 
> hopefully.
> 
> (Also, i don't know if I've mentioned this before, but i messed up Stiles' age. He would technically be 18 before senior year even started, but id didn't know that until after i started this. That, and i needed Derek to have something to angst over, or else nothing would really be stopping him from asking Stiles out. )

**Author's Note:**

> My [tumblr](http://littleredtheboy.tumblr.com/). Come cry over Stiles with me.
> 
> My [wrting blog](http://stupidgenius24.tumblr.com/) if you have any prompts you'd like me to write


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